


Not For Him

by AmberID



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty Cooper is a Good Friend, FP Jones II tries, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Sweet Pea (Riverdale), Rape/Non-con Elements, Toni Topaz is a Good Friend, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberID/pseuds/AmberID
Summary: Jughead's introduction to Southside High starts fine, until the Ghoulies take an interest in him. Trying to keep his head down and stay away from the Southside Serpents as his dad asked, Jughead finds himself the target of the rival gang and unlike the Serpents, they don't take no for answer. When they threaten Toni and the teen Serpents, Jughead makes a deal, and is forced to play a role he never wanted. Jughead refuses to let the others be hurt, even if he doesn't know them that well. He won't let them suffer, not for him.However, it turns out the Serpents are more clever than Jughead anticipated, and Sweet Pea has taken a liking to him that may just save his life. The Serpents won't give up on him, no matter how much Jughead pushes them away.
Relationships: Jughead Jones/Sweet Pea
Comments: 64
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for graphic depictions of violence and rape/non-con.  
> I do not own any canon characters, settings, or backgrounds, and no copyright infringement intended.  
> Please do not copy or post this story to any other site without my permission.  
> Thanks to everyone for reading, there is more to come!  
> P.S. This is not beta'd, so there's probably more than a few errors. Point them out to me if you want and I'll try to fix them!

It happened after first period on Jughead’s second week at Southside High. Toni had told him about the Serpents, that they would protect him if he joins. She also warned him about the Ghoulies, that they’d be rallying to get some blood from F.P.’s kid. Jughead brushed it off, he’s dealt with plenty of bullies at Riverdale High and he could deal with this too. He never wanted the gang life, never wanted to dissolve into an absentee alcoholic like his father had. The teen Serpents seemed nice enough, if a little rough around the edges, but Jughead didn’t have an interest in getting wrapped up in that lifestyle. His dad had finally gotten his shit together, but now he’s in jail, and he’d be pissed if Jug joined the gang. Jughead appreciates that his dad wants better for him, wants him to keep writing and solving mysteries and being a kid, instead of selling weed, and starting fights.

Then the teen Ghoulies introduced themselves. A group of them cornered him on his way to second period. Toni had another class to get to and Jughead was too busy looking at his schedule to notice the black, goth-style teens circling him. A hand clamped his mouth shut, and his eyes shot up to look at the gang as they hustled him into the boys’ bathroom. The hand retracted, but another Ghoulie moved forward, roughly pinning Jughead against the cold wall. His head painfully cracked against the hard brick and Jughead grunted in pain.

“What the fu-” he started before being roughly cut off by a firm punch to the gut, making him double over in pain, only held up by the Ghoulie’s forearm digging into his chest.

“So you’re F.P. Jones’s kid?” one said maliciously. The group cackled.

“He doesn’t seem too tough,” another jeered.

Jughead did his best straighten up under the thick arm holding him, trying to stand taller against them. The guy holding him just smirked.

“Look, assholes, I don’t know what you want, so spit it out already!” Jughead glared at them. They can’t touch his dad, he’s safely behind bars, and more than likely has Serpents on the inside to protect him. So what this group wants with him, he’s not sure. Quite frankly, he doesn’t care much, either. He just wants to get to class and finish this damn “first day” already.

The command gets him another punch, making him gasp out and leaving him breathless for a moment. The Ghoulies laugh at him.

“You think you’re so high and mightly,” he sneered, “You can’t even protect yourself. So you’re going to listen to what we say, Jones-y, or the little pink haired bitch you like so much won’t be looking so pretty tomorrow.”

At the mention of Toni, Jughead starts to struggle, pushing at the arms restricting him, and kicking out at anyone close enough. The Ghoulies just group in closer, throwing some punches of their own, until Jughead is grunting and panting for breath.

“Now, now,” the leader says, “we don’t want to hurt you, but reparations are in order. F.P. fucked us over, and we demand blood. If you don’t start behaving like a good, little boy, we won’t stop with the chick, we’ll take out all of your precious Serpents, one by one, until the only one left is you, and your dear old dad. What do you think? Should we make him watch you die, then? Or maybe we’d make you kill him, huh? Would you like that pretty boy?” He whispers the threat, and laughs, the others joining in.

Jughead feels his chest constrict at his words. He’s a pacifist by nature and doesn’t want anyone getting hurt, especially not because of him. And maybe his dad is to blame for Jughead being a target, but he’s getting better, Jughead will get him out of jail, and they can be a family again. Jughead struggles against the guys holding him again, glaring at the gang, and tries to throw a punch. Of course, he has no real fighting experience, has been taking punches more than throwing them his whole life, and the Ghoulie easily catches his fist, twists his arm back behind and spins him around to roughly shove his face into the gunk covered wall.

“Watch it, Kid, or we’ll make good on those promises,” he warns, twisting his arm farther back, making him cry out in pain.

“What do you want?” Jughead manages to grit out between his clenched teeth. He bit his lip in the struggle and he can taste the blood on his tongue.

“We want _you_ , of course, Jonesy!” the leader says with glee. “We want you to be our little errand boy from now on. At our beck and call, whenever we so require.”

“That’s it?” Jughead asks, incredulous. An errand boy is annoying, sure, but hardly a punishment. The Ghoulies cackle maliciously at his naivety.

“You’ll do everything we say, when we say,” the Ghoulie confirms. “There are conditions, though. You don’t get to join your little Serpent gang, you don’t tell anyone about this, and you don’t refuse,” he lists, counting on his fingers. “Oh, and failure to comply will result in severe punishment,” he giggles madly and Jughead wants nothing more than to punch him in his obnoxious mouth.

“I agree to this, and you stay away from the others?” Jughead clarifies. The Ghoulie nods eagerly. Jughead sags slightly against the wall. “Fine. I’ll do it. Now let me go,” he says, trying to sound forceful, but knowing he just sounds defeated. From what Toni told him earlier, tensions between the Ghoulies and Serpents are all an all-time high and everyone is just waiting for a war to break out. Maybe he can stop that bloody fight by doing this. It would protect the Serpents, too. Jughead may not know them, but they looked up to his dad, and he’ll be damned if he ruins his legacy.

The Ghoulie releases his arm, but they still crowd him against the wall. One pulls out a knife, the smooth metal glinting in the light. He slices a line across his palm, then grabs Jug’s hand, prying his fingers open, and does the same. The sting of the blade biting into his skin makes him gasp and jerk his hand back, but the Ghoulie grabs it and smashes their palms together, blood mixing between them. Jughead gags at the feeling and tries not to think of all the horrible diseases that can be transmitted through blood, and prays that this guy is clean.

“So it has been agreed, so it will be done,” the Ghoulie proclaims dramatically, a wicked glint in his eyes that has Jughead swallowing back his fear.

He slides his hand into Jughead’s pocket, pinching his thigh and making Jughead squeak, before pulling back with Jughead’s phone grasped gracefully between his fingers. He sends a text to his phone so that he has Jug’s number, then puts the phone right back where he found it. The group disperses after that, a poisonously sweet, “We’ll be in touch,” the only parting words he gets. Jughead stays behind to wash his hands, scrubbing with soap three or four times in hopes of washing away any diseases or grime left behind from the forced blood oath.

Jughead sighs after washing his face and drying his hands with the scratchy paper towels. He’s wasted enough time and should find his classroom. The cuts on his lip and palm have both stopped bleeding and hopefully no one will be able to tell he just got strong-armed by a studded leather-wearing gang. He smooths his hands down the front of his jeans, wincing as the rough fabric catches on his healing wound, before making his way to second period.

He, of course, shows up late, but no one spares a glance, not even the teacher, as he takes his seat at the only open chair in the room. The classroom has tables, all carved up and littered with graffiti, which seat two students each. Jughead was unfortunate enough that the only available seat was right next to the Ghoulie leader. He learns his name is Surge from the crude letters he carves into the splintering wood of the table, with the knife still caked in their blood.

Fifteen minutes before the end of class, Jughead is zoning out, thinking about Pop’s for dinner later, when Surge scoots his chair closer. With barely an inch between them, Jughead looks at him, suspicious. Surge just smirks and puts his knife in his pocket before placing a big, warm hand right on Jughead’s thigh. Jughead flinches before freezing in his seat, eyes flickering between that hand and Surge’s face. Surge, of course just stares back in amusement, squeezing Jughead’s thigh tight enough to bruise. He’s just trying to intimidate him, Jughead thinks, but the situation is weird and uncomfortable, and Jughead just wants the clock to tic faster. They stay like that, Jughead frozen in place, not daring to move a muscle, and Surge’s hand wrapped around his thigh, until the bell rings and Jughead breathes in relief as he practically runs to his next class.

The rest of the day is fairly uneventful. As promised, Jughead turns down the Serpents at lunch, choosing instead to find the library. The Ghoulies don’t do much more than sneer and laugh in his direction when he passes them in the hallways, and he almost wonders if the attack that morning was just a sick joke. His phone vibrates in his pocket as he’s walking toward the Red and Black club room. It’s an unknown number, but the message makes it pretty clear who it is.

_We have a little surprise for you. Wait for us after Blondie leaves._

At first, Jughead is confused, but then Betty walks into the room bearing gifts for the school newspaper club and his heart just about stops. He and Betty broke up shortly after his father was arrested. They both agreed it was the thrill of working together on solving Jason Blossom’s murder that kept them together, not any actual chemistry between them. Betty and him are still best friends, and are working together to get his dad out of jail, and solve the latest mystery of the “Black Hood”. The sight of her here should warm his heart, make him happy that his friend is still thinking about him, but the terror he feels at the thought of her becoming a target has his words coming out harsh and cruel.

“You can’t be here, Betty. You need to leave, seriously, and not come back!”

“Jug, I-” Betty starts, putting down the box of supplies she brought for him.

“Betty, I don’t want you here! Just go! Get out and stay on the Northside where you belong.” Jughead cuts her off, feeling as though he just stabbed himself in the heart, but willing to bear that pain if Betty will be safe, away from him.

She has tears in her eyes as she turns and leaves, Toni following her out in solidarity at his rudeness. It’s probably for the best, that they both leave, and that they both think he’s a jerk. Then, they’ll stay away, be less likely to get caught up in this mess with the Ghoulies.

A bang from somewhere down the hall makes Jughead jerk in surprise. The lights flicker off, throwing the school into darkness. Another bang has Jughead gathering his bag and heading for the exit. The Ghoulies haven’t showed yet and its getting dark outside, so maybe it really was all a joke. Except, the exit is chained, locking it from the outside. Jughead feels his palms sweating as he tries another door with no luck. He runs to the stairs, takes them two at a time to the lower level. Shadows dance across the wall and Jughead turns to run, but is grabbed from behind, his bag falling forgotten to the ground.

The malicious laughter of the group identifies them as Ghoulies and he’s spun around to face them. They’ve dressed up for the occasion-the ever present studded leather jackets and thick black eyeliner are complimented by black and white face paint smeared on their faces in different patterns. They look like a group of trick-or-treaters getting ready for Halloween. What makes Jughead struggle in their grasp isn’t the crazy face paint or unhinged laughter, it’s the weapons they’re carrying. The shine of metal blades in the light of the setting sun makes the hair raise on the back of Jughead’s neck. Some of them have more brute weapons, like wooden bats with nails sticking out of them, studded brass knuckles, and lengths of chains. The hands on him are unrelenting, pushing him down to his knees and holding him in place, a blade pressed against his throat to remind him to behave.

“My fellow Ghouls!” Surge declares, “Today, we initiate Jughead Jones, son of F.P. Jones, a.k.a. the Serpent King!” Cheers rise up from the group, chains and weapon rattling against the lockers lining the wall. Surge holds up his bat in a toast, “To our new bitch boy! Let the initiation begin!”

Jughead jumps to his feet to run as soon as the arms holding him loosen their grip, but it doesn’t matter. Surge’s bat comes down hard on his back, the rusted nails piercing into his skin, the pull on his wounds from the back swing is pure agony, but still Jughead fights. Chains and fists beat down on him, surround him, and soon he tires from struggling through the pain. Defeated, Jughead curls up in the fetal position to protect his vital organs. Heavy black boots kick him, one catching him in the nose with a sickening crunch which he hopes doesn’t break it. Knives carve into his skin, one of the Ghoulies pushing up his shirt to carve a skull on his back that Jughead would see later at the trailer when assessing the damage.

A whooshing sound fills his ears as Jughead lays there, getting beat bloody, and unable to get away. The sounds of his attackers no longer distinct enough for him to tell if they’re still laughing like hyenas or if they’ve moved on to howling at the moon like wolves. When he closes his eyes, hands pulls his hair harshly, tearing at the strands until he opens them again. And when he bites his lips to keep in the screams, fists knock into his teeth and split his lip, blood running down his chin. And when he finally tries to fight back again, tries to claw his way out, a large hand grabs his and bends the fingers back until he feels one pop, a scream tearing out of his throat. So he lays there, holding back scream as well as he can manage, while he watches the Ghoulies beat him, spit on him, and leave him in a puddle of his own sweat, blood, and tears.

It’s painful to hobble home to the trailer park like this, but Jughead doesn’t think he should ride the bike in his state. The chances of him crashing into a tree are pretty high considering his injuries and light headedness. So it’s painful, but he manages it, pulling open the squeaky door of his dad’s trailer and sinking down on the couch with a groan. The world spins and fades for a while as Jughead falls into unconsciousness. He wakes several hours later, in the dark, and moans in pain as he sits up. He turns on the lights and makes his way to the bathroom to inspect and treat his injuries. He showers, too, which turns out to be a bad idea as the hot water stings his cuts. He treats the wounds on his back as best he can. For as much as being struck with the nail infused club hurt, the damage was shallow enough that it probably wouldn’t need stitches, not that Jughead could afford a doctor, anyways. He stumbles into bed a while a later after a meager dinner of dry cereal, and dreads going back to school tomorrow.

Morning comes and Toni greets Jughead at school, gasping in shock at his bruised face and split lip. The other injuries are hidden beneath his layers of clothing, and Jughead reminds himself that he can’t let her know what really happened. 

“What the _hell_ , Jug?” Toni exclaims, mortified by the state he’s in.

Jughead just shakes his head. “I got jumped on my way home last night by some drunk guys looking for money,” he lies easily, having rehearsed the excuse all morning.

“You got jumped?” Toni asks dubiously and he nods emphatically and starts walking to class as a signal to end the conversation.

Toni takes the hint and drops it, but watches him, suspicious, throughout class. When second period rolls around, Jughead takes a seat at the front table, hoping to avoid Surge’s wandering hands. It doesn’t deter Surge at all and he still sits next to Jughead and puts his hand on his upper thigh, this time rubbing it in what could be a soothing gesture, but just makes Jughead’s skin crawl. When Jughead moves away, tries to dislodge the hand on him, Surge only moves closer and reminds him of why he agreed to this in the first place, with a threatening whisper in his ear. If the teacher notices the intrusive behavior, she doesn’t say anything and Jughead feels sick at the thought that even the teachers won’t keep him safe.

Toni continues to talk with Jughead in the halls, introduces him properly to the other Serpents at lunch, and reminds him that he’ll be protected if he joins them. The Serpents stare at him expectantly, waiting for him to give in and beg for a spot in their gang, but Jughead just shakes his head and flees to a lunch table by the trashcans. His phone vibrates in his pocket and Jughead pulls it out of his pocket, stomach sinking at the message he receives.

_You were a bad boy. Which of your little snakes should we kill first?_

Jughead clenches his fists and looks over at the Ghoulies’ table. Surge is smirking at him and nods his head at the guy standing next to him. When Jughead shifts his gaze, the Ghoulie lifts the edge of his black jacket, showing off the handle of a pistol tucked into his waistband. Jughead sucks in a harsh breath, rapidly thinking of something he can say to get everyone out of this alive. A new message pops up on his screen.

_Naz is itching to earn his stripes by killing a snake._

Another message comes through.

_Or you can meet us in the first floor bathroom after lunch for your punishment._

_I’ll be there_ , Jughead types back, nerves making his hands shake.

Appetite lost, Jughead clears his tray and ignores the stares he gets from the Serpents as he retreats to the library for the rest of lunch. When the bell rings, he makes his way to the designated bathroom, resigned to getting another beating. Naz and Surge don’t show up until the bell for next period has rung and Jughead is feeling anxious and impatient. When they do come in, Surge grabs him by the collar of his jacket and hauls him into a stall, ignoring his protests and struggles. Naz watches with glee as Jughead is forced to his knees on the grimy floor, the disgusting toilet bowl digging into his lower back, and the smell of piss making him nauseous.

“Look at our good boy waiting for us, huh Naz?” Surge comments sleezily. “Go keep watch while I have some fun.” Jughead watches Naz walked to the door of the bathroom, cracking it open and watching for anyone who might approach. Jughead relaxed a little bit with the gun being further away, even if only by a few feet.

His attention is brought back to Surge when he closed the stall door behind him and leans back against it, the lock sliding into place. Surge pats his cheek, then strokes and pinches instead, making Jughead flinch and pull away. Surge just smirks condescendingly, grabbing his chin and jerking him forward again.

“ _Look_ at you,” he whispers, and jerks his hips forward against Jughead’s face. Jughead’s eyes widen and he scrambles back against the toilet, trying to get his legs under him, and ready to start yelling. “Ah-ah-ah!” Surge tuts. “Remember the conditions. Everything we want, when we want it. And right now, I want your pretty little mouth,” he brushes his thumb over Jughead’s bottom lip, “wrapped around my cock.” He grins maliciously and Jughead fights the urge to bite his thumb off. “Remember, one word from me and someone dies. Do you really not care about anyone but yourself?” Surge finishes the threat and Jughead glares at him, opens his mouth to renegotiate, but Surge takes the opportunity to shove his fingers in his mouth. “You stay quiet and if you bite me, I’ll give Naz the go-ahead to shoot the faggot Serpent.” His words are hard and icy and Jughead swallows around the fingers in his mouth, fighting the urge to vomit at the hopelessness that settles in his chest.

Surge takes his silence as agreement and removes his fingers, wiping them on Jughead’s cheek. Something wet seeps through the knee of Jughead’s jeans and he focuses on that rather than watch Surge lower his zipper and pull out his dick. The organ is half-hard and flopping in front of his face. Surge slaps it against Jughead’s cheek and Jughead winces. The threat of these assholes killing someone is enough to make Jughead go through with it, but not enough to stop the shaking in his hands or the tightening of his chest.

“Open,” Surge instructs and Jughead does, being mindful of his teeth as Surge pushes his cock past his lips and into the hot cavern of his mouth.

The feeling of the hard flesh against his tongue is surreal and Jughead wonders if he’s dissociating. Then Surge pulls off Jugheads beanie and grips his hair tightly, tilting his head back slightly with the force, and slamming his hips forward until Jughead’s nose touches the dark pubic hair at the base. He gags, eyes watering with tears that overflow when he blinks, and hands clutching desperately at Surge’s thighs, pushing against him. Surge pays it no mind, just keeps his dick lodged deep in Jughead’s throat, holding his head down, and Jughead can’t breathe. He’s panicking as dark spots start to fill his vision.

Just when Jughead thinks he might die from asphyxiation, Surge pulls back and Jughead takes huge, gasping breaths. Saliva dribbles down his chin and a string of saliva connects Surge’s fully erect cock to Jughead’s lips.

“Fuck,” Surge groans, watching Jughead pant for air.

He grips his hair again and thrusts into Jughead’s throat. This time he doesn’t hold him down, but thrusts rapidly and forcefully into Jughead’s mouth, twisting strands of his hair between his fingers, tugging it tighter. Surge disentangles one of his hands to stroke at the tear tracks on Jughead’s face adoringly.

“That’s it, take it you pretty little bitch,” Surge grunts out, slapping Jughead’s cheek lightly a few times.

His thrusts become erratic, losing rhythm and suddenly a warm bitter liquid is coating Jughead’s tongue as Surge pulls his dick all the way out and finishes ejaculating on Jughead’s face, some of it getting in his hair.

“Swallow, like a good boy, Jughead,” Surge taunts him, but Jughead isn’t in a position to refuse orders, so he does what he’s told, cringing at the taste as he swallows it all down. Surge reaches forward and smears the white substance into the skin of Jughead’s face. “Such a good boy,” he murmurs and Jughead thinks he might be sick.

With that, his beanie is returned to him and Surge and Naz leave him on his knees in the bathroom stall. Jughead retches into the foul smelling toilet, emptying his stomach of the little food he’s eaten in the past two days. The stomach acid burns his throat and makes his eyes water anew. He retches until exhaustion won’t let him anymore. Then, he picks himself up, ignores the questionable stain on his pant leg from where he was kneeling, washes his hands and faces as best he can, and calmly leaves.

He doesn’t go to class, or the Red and Black office. Instead, he walks right out of the school, making a beeline for his motorcycle. He doesn’t know if he’ll go back to the trailer, just knows that he has to _go_. He’s so focused on getting away, that he runs right into the tallest Serpent, Sweet Pea, in the parking lot. The impact jars his injury and a groan escapes him weakly. His throat throbs and feels scratchy with the sound it just let out. Sweet Pea grabs his upper arms to steady him.

“Watch where you’re going, Northsider,” Sweet Pea growls out. Jughead just nods and moves to pass him. “Wait, you don’t look so good. You okay?” he asks, gentler than Jughead has ever heard him speak.

Jughead feels rage boiling in his veins at the tone. How dare he be an asshole one moment, and pretend to care the next. “I’m fine, Asshole, just leave me alone, and get the fuck out of my way!” he all but yells at the boy that’s towering over him.

Sweet Pea is shocked, mouth hanging open, retort stuck in his throat, shocked. Jughead takes the opportunity to shove past him, finally making it to the bike. He pulls on his helmet, the scratched-in crown glinting in the afternoon sun, and swings a leg over the bike. Sweet Pea just watches him until he disappears down the street.

The first thing Jughead does when he gets to the trailer is strip down in the bathroom and stand under the hot spray of the shower. He turns the water as hot as it will go with the cheap plumbing and scrubs his hands and his face until the skin is raw and tingly. He does the same with his hair, and then the rest of himself, washing away all traces of what happened. When the water runs cold, he gets out and uses a clean towel to dry himself off roughly, rubbing once, twice, three times for good measure, leaving no doubt in his mind that the evidence is gone. The scratchy towel pulls at his scabs and he winces when he feels one reopen. He bandages himself up again, and throws his soiled clothes in the wash. A large part of him would rather burn them, but he knows he can’t afford new ones right now.

Once that is done, Jughead takes a breath and sits on the couch. He still feels unsettled in his skin and wants nothing more than to erase the day from his mind. He feels stupid and weak, and even a cup of cheap coffee and his laptop can’t distract his mind from replaying the scene over and over again, analyzing all the things he did wrong, all the ways he could have stopped it. He should have fought back, should have screamed, or refused, or _something_. Instead he went down on his knees and just took it, and he hates himself for that. Then there’s the matter of the gun. Jughead doesn’t even know how they got it through security, wonders if it was even loaded. The Ghoulies could’ve been bluffing.

They knew Betty was coming to visit him at school yesterday before he did. They threatened Toni and the other Serpents. They threatened his dad. They are more organized than they appear, which makes them dangerous. They picked up on each of his weaknesses right away and used them against him. Jughead hates himself for being so open, so emotional, so ready to protect the people around him. He just wanted to finish high school and get far away from this damn town. Things in his life have been falling apart for a while, though, and he’d thought he’d gotten used to it. Now, he just wants to scream and cry and let someone else protect _him_ for a change.

His stomach grumbling breaks him from his spiraling thoughts. He still feels nauseous from earlier, so dry cereal for dinner it is. As he’s chewing he thinks about what the Ghoulies are getting from this, besides the obvious. Surge said F.P. wronged them, and that this was revenge. Except revenge should just be them killing Jughead, not swearing him into servitude. They want to humiliate him, break him, and for what?

A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts, and he spills half his cereal on the floor. With a curse he gets up to find out who’s here. Opening the door a crack, Toni’s pink hair has him sighing in both relief and resignation. She must’ve noticed he left, or maybe Sweet Pea told her. He thinks about telling her to go away, but Toni pushes her way in.

“Jug,” she greets him, looking around the trailer, raising an eyebrow when she sees the mess of cereal on the ground. Jughead pulls his flannel around himself tighter, feeling defensive.

“Toni. What are you doing here?” he fakes boredom, tries not to let it show that he’s panicking. If she notices, she keeps it to herself and shrugs.

“Heard you left early, wanted to make sure you’re alright,” she tells him and he thinks she sounds sincere. He squashes the hope that builds in his chest at someone caring about him. If he slips, she could be killed by the Ghoulies. The best way to keep her and everyone else safe is to keep his distance, push them away, even if he doesn’t want to.

“Well, I’m fine, so you can go now,” Jughead says, sounding angry, hoping his attitude will be enough to send her on her way. She glares at him.

“What’s gotten into you, Jones? Since when do you skip school? Or blow off your Northside friends?” she asks, aggressive, and Jughead knows he just has to push a little bit harder and she’ll leave him. He’s always been better with words than with fists.

“What do you know? We’re not _friends_ , Topaz! You barely even know me, so why is it so hard for you to take a fucking hint? I don’t want to be your friend, I don’t want to join your stupid little motorcycle club, and I don’t want to be bothered! Just leave me the fuck alone!” Jughead yells venomously at her, each word leaving his mouth tasting like acid and twisting his insides. Her eyes are glassy and maybe he went too far, but she storms out of the trailer and probably out of his life, and that’s good enough for him.

Instead of cleaning up the cereal, he angrily swipes the bowl off the table, hearing the satisfying crash as it shatters on the ground, shards of ceramic now joining the mess on the floor. He flops back on the couch, pulls at his hair in frustration, and tries to think of a plan. He still doesn’t know the Ghoulies’ endgame with all of this. But he does know they want him compliant. He makes a list in his head:

Step one: Push away his friends, let the Ghoulies see that he doesn’t care about anyone.

Step two: Play the part. Let the Ghoulies think they’ve won.

Step three: Gather information. Find out what the Ghoulies are really after.

Step four: Use the intel he gathers to put the Ghoulies away, destroy the gang from the inside.

Jughead feels calmer with that plan in place. He’s already started on step one, Betty and Toni both unlikely to be close with him. He knows Betty may try to talk to him again, but hopes she at least waits a while. She’s one of the sweetest people he knows, and he doesn’t want to upset her again. As it is, he knows she’s probably blaming herself for what happened, but he can’t call her and explain that it’s on him, not if he’s going to be strong and protect her from this mess.

Step two makes Jughead a little uncomfortable. He can take the beatings, he can run errands, but he doesn’t know how long he can “service” Surge the way he did today. That, he thinks, will break him. Maybe he can avoid being alone with Surge. He could skip second period, not like the teachers care anyway. Of course, when Surge texts him and asks to meet, he’ll have to go, and the feeling of hopelessness at the inevitable outcome of “step two” is enough to make tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t want to, but it’s important if he wants to get to step three.

Plan in place, Jughead falls into a restless sleep, waking up cranky and volatile the next morning. He figures it’s for the best, if he’s in a bad mood. It makes pushing people away so much easier. He skips second period and sits in the library instead. The plan is going good until he gets a text at lunch.

_Are you avoiding me?_ Jughead rolls his eyes, but responds in the negative.

_Of course not. What do you want?_ He replies.

_You. No more skipping second period,_ comes Surge’s reply and Jughead sucks in a breath. He really wasn’t expecting it to be an issue. Before he can respond, another text comes through.

_I have another surprise for you. Meet me in the bathroom after lunch._ Another text comes in, this time a warning.

_And DON’T keep me waiting._

Jughead swallows in fear. The last thing he wants is to be in that bathroom with Surge again. When they told him he’d be their errand boy, he figured he’d be running drugs or delivering guns, or whatever illegal contraband the Ghoulies deal in. Instead, he’s being used and humiliated and it sucks.

The clock ticks too fast, and soon enough Jughead is steeling himself, waiting in the bathroom like a “good boy” for Surge and his buddy, Naz. When they show up, two others are with them and Jughead doesn’t want to think about what that means. Naz takes his place by the door, keeping watch, while the other two wait for instructions from their leader.

“Jonesy!” Surge greets him jovially, putting an arm around his shoulders. “You were such a good boy yesterday that today, I brought you a little treat. Something to take the edge off,” he smirks and Jughead cringes even as he tries to school his features.

“Hey!” Jughead exclaims as one of the Ghoulies grabs him in a reverse bear hug, pinning his arms at his sides. His muscles are bulging and Jughead squirms trying to free himself. The other Ghoulie he doesn’t know steps forward when Surge waves a hand at him, pulling something from his pocket.

It’s a syringe filled with an orangey-yellow substance and Jughead struggles in earnest now, eyes never leaving the needle.

“Hold him still, Col!” Surge says and the arms around Jughead tighten until he can’t breathe, his ribcage pressing against his lungs painfully.

The guy with the needle is laughing at him, pulling up his sleeve and dragging a warm finger across his bare arm. Goosebumps erupt across his skin and if Jughead could move, he’s shiver from the contact.

“You won’t be fighting so much after this,” he giggles like the evil villain in children’s movies.

The needle punctures his arm and the plunger is depressed, the questionable liquid entering his bloodstream and Jughead weakly cries out. For a moment, he thinks the drug has no effect on him, but slowly his limbs feel sluggish and his mind gets foggy.

“That’s it, Jonesy. Deep breaths, you’re doing good,” Surge praises him and Jughead realizes that he can breathe again, his lungs expanding with air in relief. Surge puts a hand on his shoulder and shoves him down to his knees. “Good boy,” he whispers with a hand in Jughead’s hair when he rests his head against Surge’s thigh for balance.

The drug is weird, he thinks hazily, his limbs feel like they’re moving underwater, and his brain is clear, all thoughts gone. Surge is still petting his hair, and Jughead realizes he lost his beanie at some point, but doesn’t panic, the drug keeping him calm and pliable. Surge lowers his zipper, guides Jughead to where he wants him and pats his cheek.

“C’mon, Jonesy, you know what to do,” he encourages. Jughead does know what to do, opening his mouth and covering his teeth with his lips, breathing hotly against Surge’s straining erection until Surge has enough and pushes into his mouth with a moan. Jughead for his part, kneels there obediently, taking it like Surge wants him to. Surge uses his mud-covered, studded boot to rub Jughead’s crotch through his jeans. He vaguely thinks it hurts, but with the drug in his veins, he just feels numb all over. Instructions are seductively hissed to him throughout it all, and with Jug’s mind coming up blank, he focuses on doing as he’s told.

Jughead doesn’t know how long he’s on his knees, but the three Ghoulies take turns and when he’s finally hauled to his feet, his face is covered in tears, and spit, and come. Surge gently slaps his face, laughing at the mess and Jughead is too dizzy to react. Surge grabs a scratchy paper towel and runs it under cold water while the other Ghoulies prop Jughead up against the counter. Hid head lolls back until Surge catches it in his palm, holding his head carefully as he cleans him up. When all traces are gone, he bites Jughead’s cheek hard enough to bruise, causing him to moan in pain. Surge looks possessively pleased with himself.

“See?” he tells Jug. “Good boys get taken care of. Now off to class with you and no more skipping school. I _like_ having you here where I can find you,” he whispers, licking the edge of his ear.

Jughead is still high, and squirms at the sensation, trying to figure out how to make his legs work. Surge makes some gesture at the other two Ghoulies and help him walk out of the bathroom. Naz is there and laughs cruelly at the way Jughead stumbles over his own feet, giving Surge a high five in the background. Jughead is escorted to his classroom and takes a seat in the back. The world isn’t fuzzy per say, it’s more like tunnel vision where he can only focus on one thing at a time, everything else is just white noise. The rest of the day passes this way, the drugs slowly wearing off so that by the time the final bell rings, he almost feels back to normal.

Of course, with his body working through the drugs, the thoughts start to filter back in. Delayed and nearly uncontrollable emotions swarm through his body and he clenches his fists to hold it all in. Getting home is a blur to Jughead, but as soon as he does, he makes a beeline for the tiny bathroom. His knees slam into the ground as he hunches over the toilet, retching and coughing. Warm, salty tears trail down his cheeks and he doesn’t bother wiping them. Instead, he strips down and jumps in the shower, leans against the wall and lets himself cry. Eventually, he’s curled up on the floor and the water has gone icy, but he’s too exhausted to move. He hates this, hates everything it makes him into- a coward, a weakling, a useless and helpless little Northside boy. A failure.

That last thought has him shaking his head viciously. _No! No, I WON’T fail. I can’t_ , he thinks and reaches up to turn off the water. With shaking hands, he grabs a towel, unsure if he’s shivering from the cold or the rage rushing through him. Several deep breaths and a set of clean clothes later, Jughead is mindlessly eating some expired crackers he found in the cabinet. He tries to write some more of his story, but is too anxious to concentrate, so he settles for a movie instead. It helps him feel just a little more normal, a little more himself again.

A knock at the door draws a sigh from his lips as he pauses the film. He thought he was harsh enough with Toni that she wouldn’t come back. He opens the door with a scathing comment on the tip of his tongue, but chokes on it when he sees Archie Andrews on his doorstep, looking pissed. Like Toni, Archie shoves his way inside.

“What the _hell_ , Jughead?” Archie yells. “Why did you upset Betty? Why did you tell her to leave like that?” Jughead struggles to form a sentence, having not expected to see Archie anytime soon.

“I just told her the truth. She can’t keep visiting me. We’re on two different sides of town now, things are different. That’s all,” Jughead tells him, keeping his voice calm. Archie has always been hot-tempered and Jughead isn’t looking for a fight with him, especially when his injuries are still healing.

“That’s all? Things are different now? Nothing’s changed, Jug! Why are you being so pig-headed about this?” Archie continues to yell. Jughead takes a deep breath, finding the words that will send Archie away for good, too.

“Things _are_ different now, Andrews! Maybe you can pretend that this summer never happened, but _I’m_ the one you _abandoned_. And you’re doing it again, but instead of Grundy, it’s Veronica. At this rate, you’ll fuck the entire Riverdale High female population. And I’ll be the last person you think about, I always am, after all,” Jughead hates the words coming out of his mouth almost more than he hates himself. Archie is-was- his best friend, and Jughead needs to keep him safe. Archie may constantly think with his dick before his brains, but he’s always sheltered Jughead when he’s needed it. Be it opening his home to him, protecting him from the bullies at school, or buying him food at Pop’s, Archie has always had his back.

“Is that really what you think, Jug?” Archie asks quietly and Jughead nods sternly. “You’re wrong. I care about you, you’re family,” he says confidently, waiting for Jughead to say something, anything. “Fine. If that’s how you want things to be,” he shakes his head and leaves, and Jughead watches him drive away through the open door.

Jughead waits until the headlights fade into the dusk before resuming his movie and pretending he isn’t crying over the loss of his childhood friend. The circle of people in his corner is getting smaller and Jughead is grateful that he can’t think of anyone else he’ll have to hurt to keep them safe. He falls into a fitful sleep like that, not bothering to move from the couch. Nightmares plague him daily, now, and it’s just a new normal that he’s accepted.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's chapter two! I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. Thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter- I'm really glad you're enjoying this so far. Let me know if you find any errors or if something doesn't make sense- sometimes I miss things since in my head I know how I want things to go. Also, I'm trying to put up a new chapter every week. Things are picking up with work, however, so there may be some weeks when I just can't get the chapter done. Thanks for reading and leaving kudos if you enjoy!  
> P.S. All trigger warnings still apply, especially violence and non-con/dub-con drug use.

Two weeks pass by. Jughead continues bending to the whim of Surge and his group of Ghoulies. Surge continues to drug and fuck him after lunch, sometimes inviting friends, sometimes not. Jughead doesn’t retch into the toilet anymore, and resists the urge to scrub himself clean until he bleeds. Things are getting easier every day, but the nightmares remain. And the newest development is the addiction to whatever drug they’ve been pumping into his arm. He finds himself craving the numbness, the simplicity it gives him. He likes that all the thoughts about how worthless he really is disappear when he’s high. The Ghoulies know he craves it, too, always snickering when they roll up his sleeve and he just gives in to it.

The Serpents still glare at him suspiciously, watching him in the halls, but they give him a wide berth, wanting nothing to do with him. That in addition to no more unwanted visits from friends means Jughead can cross “Step one” off his mental list, and continue working on steps two and three. It’s Friday afternoon and Surge has already requested he wait for him at the front entrance after school. He says he’s taking Jughead somewhere special. Jughead excitedly hopes it’ll be somewhere he can dig up some information.

Surge saunters up to him, his gang following behind, and tugs Jughead’s hat off his head to ruffle his hair like a dog. Jughead grits his teeth at the action, still high enough to not care, but down enough to know he doesn’t like it. He snatches the hat back and shoves it in his pocket. The Ghoulies laugh at him, and Jughead knows they’re laughing at the way he heels and rolls over when called, laughing because they’ve turned F.P.’s kid into their own personal lap dog. Surge presses his hand to the back of Jughead’s neck, squeezing tightly and tugging Jughead to walk in the direction of the parking lot.He straddles a bike embellished with flaming skulls and a studded fender. 

“Get on,” he commands and Jughead throws his leg over the bike to sit behind him. Surge reaches back and pulls his arms forward around his waist, and now Jughead is so close, his crotch is pressed against Surge’s back. “You’re going to want to hold on tight, baby. I like to drive fast.”

Jughead feels his cheeks redden at the nickname, knowing the rest of the Ghoulies heard it. He tightens his hold on Surge as the bikes roar up. As Surge twists his way out of the parking lot, Jughead catches sight of a familiar red-head talking with Toni. The two of them are in a corner at the edge of the lot and as he catches sight of them, they look up and watch him as he leaves. Jughead vaguely wonders what they’re doing before realizing it’s no longer any of his business. Maybe Veronica broke it off with Archie and he’s dating around again. As soon as the thought enters his mind, Jughead pushes it away, ashamed of himself. He’s already hurt Archie enough, he doesn’t need to insult him in his mind too.

After a terrifying ride-Surge was right, he does go fast- the bikes park at an old warehouse. The concrete building is crumbling in spots and stands two stories. Some of the windows are covered in boards where the glass was broken or missing, and graffiti skulls and punk designs cover the walls. This must be the Ghoulies hang out. There’s an older group of Ghoulies leaning against the side by a camp fire, smoking cigarettes and drinking beers. Surge and the younger Ghoulies ignore them and lead the way inside.

“Surge,” a crazed looking man with dark curly hair and a twisted smile greets. The whole room looks over at his greeting and Jughead suspects this is the Ghoulies’ leader, their “king”.

“Malachai,” replies Surge, shoving Jughead forward before kicking him in the back of his knees, sending him to the floor. Surge puts a hand in his hair, gripping tightly and tilting his head up.

“Ah,” Malachai says with glee. “This is F.P.’s boy! Well done, Surge.” Malachai trails a finger across Jughead’s cheek and he fights the urge to try and bite it. If he wants to get information, he needs to make sure they trust him, especially the leader. “Bring him downstairs, and get him ready,” Malachai commands and cheers break out around the room. Ready for what, Jughead wonders.

Surge pulls him to his feet and he leads him down a dark stairwell that opens up to a large room, the basement. On one side of the room, Jughead notes lab equipment and scales on tables behind large plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling. A drug lab, Jughead realizes. The other side of the room is set up like a medieval dungeon. Shackles and chains hang from the walls and there is a rusty iron cage in the corner, only big enough for maybe two full grown adults. A video camera is set up on a tripod, facing the shackles on the wall. Jughead is dragged over to the wall and can’t help but struggle when the Ghoulies start pulling off his shirt and shacking his ankles. Once his jacket and shirt have been removed, the Ghoulies start wrestling his arms over his head to lock them into place.

Jughead knows he’s being difficult, but he can’t calm down enough to do what they want. Every cell in his body is urging him to fight. Surge shushes him and Jughead feels a familiar prick on his arm.

“This’ll make everything better, Jonesy,” Surge says in between shushing him and Jughead realizes he’s been growling in his struggle.

The drugs flow through his system and Jughead hates the way his body gives up before his mind clears. He hates the way his limbs feel like jelly as the Ghoulies finally snap the shackles shut around his wrists. The chains holding his arms in place are just long enough that when Jughead’s knees go weak beneath him, he dangles forward slightly. Being held up only by his wrists hurts as the cold, rough metal digs into his skin, so Jughead struggles to find his legs again, whining quietly. Surge laughs breathily at that, pressing against his side as he helps Jughead balance on his feet again. Jughead can feel his erection grind into the side of his hip and for a fleeting moment, panics that they are going to make a porn film. Surge steps away, though, as Malachai enters the room.

“We’re going to make a little video,” Malachai speaks to him as he presses a button on the camera and a red light comes on, “showing your daddy what happens when he messes with us. How weak and inferior the Serpents are compared to us.” The words are malicious, and Malachai practically spits when he says ‘serpents’.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jughead slurs. Malachai just laughs and the room hollers and cheers. The rest of the gang has been slowly filtering into the room to watch the show and the overwhelming scent of sweat and alcohol makes Jughead a little queasy. Malachai steps up to his, runs a rough hand down his abdomen, and pats his cheek with a smirk when Jughead shudders.

“Your daddy and his gang attacked us and stole our territory. So now you get to pay the price. You’re his weakness, after all,” he smirks. “And you’ll never get the chance to lead those snakes once we brand you as one of ours,” Malachai laughs and practically claps in glee. Jughead doesn’t understand, what do they mean brand? He’s already taken a blood oath, already agreed to their terms. Malachai calls out to someone and a large, muscled man in a cut off studded vest comes forward with something in his hands. A brand, Jughead realizes as he takes in the red-hot glow of the skull at the end of the long handle.

Malachai takes it from him and stalks over to Jughead who flinches away, shaking his head. The shackles on his ankles have only an inch of slack, preventing him from kicking out or dodging the hot brand. It hisses as it sinks into the sensitive skin on the right side of his abdomen, right at the bottom of his rib cage. Jughead screams and squirms against his restrainsts, arching his back in pain, tears and snot flowing down his face. The putrid scent of burning flesh fills his nasal passages, and he keeps screaming until the brand is finally pulled away and his voice has gone hoarse. The group behind the camera cheer and laugh and throw insults at Jughead, but he can barely hear is over the whooshing in his ears, unable to focus on anything put the pain. A sharp slap across face brings his focus back to Malachai who grips his chin to make him face the camera. Malachai says something vicious and Jughead still can’t make out the words. He thinks he might be in shock, can feel goosebumps erupting across his flesh. Malachai finishes his little speech by spitting in Jughead’s face, the glob hitting him in the corner of the eye and causing him to jerk back.

Jughead thinks this must be the end. That they’re done now and will let him go, have Surge take him back to school. Instead, Malachai walks away and waves on the other Ghoulies to take a turn. Jughead grunts and groans as men step up and punch him or kick him, or press their filthy fingers against the new burn. His feels as if his whole world has been reduced to pain and he thinks the shock is really setting in, now, as black spots dance in his vision. He doesn’t fight it, lets it take over, provide some relief from the pain in his wrists, his face, and his torso.

He wakes with a groan to the feeling of someone gently shaking him. Opening his eyes, he realizes he’s sprawled on the steps to entrance of Southside High and he vaguely wonders if he fell asleep waiting for Surge. The sky is dark except for the ethereal glow of the moon and stars, and Jughead looks around. His eyes land on a tall male with black hair that hangs in his face, and a slightly shorter male, also with dark hair. They’re both wearing black leather jackets and the taller one has a snake tattoo on his neck. Serpents, Jughead dazedly realizes. He jerks up to a seated position and moans loudly in surprise at the pain in his torso. It wasn’t a dream then, Jughead thinks. The two boys help him sit up and Jughead’s mind gets a little clearer. Sweet Pea and Fangs are their names, his brain supplies. Toni introduced him during lunch that first day.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Fangs asks him and the question throws Jughead off guard. They’re supposed to hate him for rejecting the gang, for yelling at Toni.

“Sure,” Jughead wheezes out, confused and too tired to start a fight, to keep his distance verbally or physically. Every breath makes the brand on his ribs twinge with agony. Sweet Pea scoffs at his obvious lie and Fangs frowns in concern.

Jughead tries to take stock of himself. Someone put his shirt and jacket back on, his beanie still tucked carefully into the pocket. He can feel all his fingers and toes, too, and doesn’t think any bones are broken. The biggest source of pain is coming from that damn burn and his shirt scratches at the raw flesh, making Jughead gasp a little with each shaky breath. Fangs pulls an oil stained rag out of his pocket, probably used when working on his bike, and gently wipes at Jughead’s face. Jughead can feel the material stick slightly to his skin as he cleans him off. The rags comes away tinged red, and Jughead sighs as the spit, blood, and tears are wiped from his skin.

Jughead feels woozy, thinks maybe he’s concussed, but tries to stand up. Fangs shares a look with Sweet Pea as they watch him struggle before Sweet Pea grips him under the shoulders and hauls him to his feet slowly. Jughead sways and fists his hands in Sweet Pea’s jacket to steady himself.

“We should get him home,” Fangs says to Sweet Pea, and Jughead pushes back a little, balancing precariously on his own as he shakes his head. He starts to walk away, but stumbles when he realizes he’s missing a shoe, and falls hard on his knee, scraping his palms on the pavement.

“Yeah, you’re not driving yourself,” Sweet Pea grumbles and helps him to his feet again.

He pulls Jughead’s arm over his shoulder and wraps his own around his waist to support his weight. Jughead grunts at the strain on his shoulder, the joint sore from supporting his body weight in the chains. Sweet Pea walks him over to his bike, he and Fangs parked right next to Jughead’s. Fangs secures Jughead’s helmet on his head and helps him straddle the bike behind Sweet Pea, who’s putting on his own helmet. Sweet Pea nods at Fangs as they rev their bikes and carefully peels out of the dark parking lot. Jughead has his arms wrapped around Sweet Pea’s waist, tiredly leaning his head against his shoulder blades. Every time his hands start to slip, Sweet Pea grasps his wrist to make him focus on holding on. Fangs rides his bike behind them. Jughead suspects they’re worried he’s going to fall off. Jughead can’t help but notice that Sweet Pea is a much better driver than Surge, mostly following the speed limit and taking the turns slowly.

They park the bikes outside F.P.’s trailer. Fangs helps Jughead off the bike while Sweet Pea carefully removes his helmet. Jughead doesn’t know what to make of the tender care they show him, doesn’t really understand what’s happening. Maybe this is all a dream and he’s still in that basement or maybe the drugs are making him hallucinate. They practically carry him into the trailer, turning on the lights and setting him carefully on the couch. Jughead’s eyes feel heavy and he relaxes back into the familiar cushions, intent on falling asleep.

Fangs rouses him again with a cool, damp washcloth on his face, gently clearing away the dried mess that the rag earlier missed. Sweet Pea settles down on the couch next to him with the first aid kit he must have found in the bathroom. He dabs antiseptic onto the small cuts on his face and Jughead hisses at the sting. He moves on to his wrists, next. Deep gouges from the unforgiving metal circle all the way around them. Sweet Pea wraps each wrist in clean gauze then dresses the scrapes on his hands and arms too. Fangs is rustling around in the kitchen as Sweet Pea finishes his task, watching him with concern. When he returns he hands Jughead a glass of water and some painkillers, which he swallows gratefully. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was until the cold water reached his throat, then he starts gulping greedily from the glass, spilling some down his chin and shirt before Sweet Pea yanks the beverage out of his grasp.

“Slowly, Jones,” Sweet Pea says, tone stern but gentle. Jughead nods and takes the cup again with shaking hands, finishing the drink slowly.

Fangs retrieves a clean shirt from the bedroom and starts trying to tug Jughead’s jacket off. When Jughead notices what Fangs wants, he panics and starts kicking and pushing at the two Serpents. They back off with raised hands, sharing another look.

“Okay, okay, Jones,” Fangs says placating, “We’ll leave it. A clean shirt is here if you want it though. Try to get some sleep.” Fangs takes a seat at the kitchen table, and Jughead can see him texting, the blue hue of the screen reflecting on his skin. Sweet Pea gently pushes Jughead to lay down on his back and when Jughead groans at the movement, Sweet Pea doesn’t comment. He blearily watches Sweet Pea walk over to join Fangs and hears them talking quietly, but can’t make out the words. Jughead lets his eyes finally fall closed as the world spins out of existence.

He wakes up to voices arguing quietly. It’s completely dark in the trailer and he’s still so tired. He only catches a few pieces of the whispered conversation.

“He’s marked, that means he’s one of them, now!” someone hisses.

“You don’t know that. It could mean anything,” another voice answers and the whispers grow more distant as Jughead’s eyelids fall closed again and the world falls away.

When he wakes up again, his head is pounding and his bladder is demanding to be emptied. He manages to stand without much trouble, although the way his muscles ache reminds him of the very real torture he endured the night before. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, and then squinting at the sunlight pouring in through the windows, Jughead makes his way to the bathroom. Seeing his reflection, he looks like a half-assed mummy with all the gauze and medical tape wrapped around him. It’s not until he’s brushing his teeth that it registers that this is _not_ the shirt he fell asleep in last night. And he definitely was _not_ wearing sweatpants either. Checking under the shirt, he finds someone bandaged the brand on his ribs. He blushes, remembering the two Serpents that helped him home, and knows they must have changed and bandaged him. Panic bubbles in his throat at the thought. That means they _saw_ and Jughead can’t afford for them to get involved. He needs to put an end to this, should’ve done it last night, but he’d been so damn tired.

Jughead walks out of the bathroom and finds his beanie, pulling it on, then makes his way to the small kitchen. Only the taller Serpent is there, typing on his phone with a spoon hanging from his mouth. He’s eating Lucky Charms, Jughead notes absently, albeit slightly amused, although he has no idea where they came from. Jughead watches him quietly for a moment, admiring the view. Sweet Pea looks freshly showered and sleepy, his jacket is hanging on the back of the chair and the short-sleeve black T-shirt he wears shows off his muscles. The neckline is low enough to give Jughead a glimpse of his collarbones, and a full view of his Serpent tattoo. Jughead blushes a little at his attraction, and only turns redder when he looks up to find Sweet Pea watching him, removing the spoon from his mouth and his tongue peeking out to lick along his lips. Jughead looks away, collecting himself, needing to concentrate.

“How’re you feeling?” Sweet Pea asks, and Jughead internally curses because it’s hard to be an asshole to someone being so considerate.

“Fine,” he starts, “Look, thanks for getting me home and stuff, but don’t think I want you sticking around.” Sweet Pea raises an eyebrow, but is otherwise unfazed. Jughead holds his stare, glaring at him the longer he just sits there. Finally, Sweet Pea lets out a huff of amusement.

“Toni told me you yelled at her. She warned me you’d do the same with me,” Sweet Pea tells him as he crosses his arms. “Lucky for you, I don’t give a shit about what you say.” Jughead can work with that, he thinks.

“Yeah, then what the hell are you hanging around for? Get the fuck out of here already,” Jughead continues to glare, squaring his shoulders. Sweet Pea just shakes his head with an amused smile and Jughead is really starting to get pissed off at his cocky attitude.

“No.” Sweet Pea stands up and grabs a second bowl and spoon, pouring the cereal into it and setting it in front of Jughead before sitting back down. Jughead waits for more words, but that’s all he says.

“What?” he asks dumbly in disbelief at the blunt opposition and the bowl of cereal in front of him.

“I said no. I’m not leaving, Jones, until you give me answers,” Sweet Pea clarifies. “So eat up and start talking, beginning with how the fuck you got that mark on your chest.”

“Fuck you, I don’t owe you anything, Asshole. Now there’s the door,” Jughead yells, waving at the door across from them. Sweet Pea doesn’t even twitch a muscle, just sits there and waits. When Jughead doesn’t crack, he tries again with a different question.

“Alright, then. Let’s try, what the fuck happened to you last night?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jughead throws his hands up in annoyance. This guy just won’t drop it. “Nothing happened, got it?”

“Stop lying. We fucking scraped your ass off the damn steps, so you better give me an explanation as to what the hell you were doing to get beat to a bloody fucking pulp,” Sweet Pea spits out, fists clenching. He’s getting angry now and that makes it easier for Jughead. He can work with angry, so long as it doesn’t come to throwing fists.

“How about you tell _me_ , what the fuck you two were doing at the school that late anyways?” Jughead throws back.

“Finding your dumb ass, that’s what, you ungrateful shit,” Sweet Pea’s voice is dangerous and pissed off. “You’re not one of us Jones, and you never will be. You’re just a pathetic loner who can’t protect himself or anyone else. You’re a _liability._ But we still picked your ass up and took care of you, so I think we’re entitled to a damn ‘thank you’ and an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you shit, you prick. Now get the fuck out of my trailer,” Jughead’s voice is steely. Sweet Pea is right, Jughead _is_ a liability, he _is_ pathetic. And he hates that more than he hates the Ghoulies, more than he hates everything they’ve done to him. Jughead can feel himself start to shake from rage. When Sweet Pea continues to just sit there, Jughead stomps over to his bag and shoes, sliding his feet in without tying the laces. “Fine! Stay here for all I care, but I’m not putting up with your shit. You don’t know a goddamn thing!”

Jughead storms out, notices they got his bike home sometime in the night, hops on and rides away as Sweet Pea screams from the doorway, “You ungrateful dick!”

Jughead does feel guilty, knows it’s not Sweet Pea he’s really mad at. I mean they went back to get his bike for him and took care of him, too. It has to be this way, though, no exceptions just because some Serpents decided to be charitable. Sweet Pea was right- Jughead can’t protect himself or anyone else, so the best he can do is push people away to keep them from getting hurt. He rides to the small library on the Southside. Mostly empty aside from the occasional drug deal, Jughead easily finds a quiet spot to sit near the window. Checking his phone, he realizes it’s already the afternoon. He didn’t feel like he slept for _that_ long. Then again, how late did they get to the trailer last night? And why can’t he remember how he ended up at the high school last night? He scrubs a hand across his face in frustration at the situation, and starts to focus on ‘Step three’.

He learned some things yesterday with the Ghoulies, even if the information is a little hazy. Malachai said that he wouldn’t be leading the Serpents any time soon. Jughead didn’t understand it at the time, since he had no intention of ever even joining the Serpents, but now he wonders if it’s expected for the leader’s son to take over. He wonders if that’s Malachai’s angle, to get rid of Jughead before he can take his ‘rightful place’ as Serpent King. It would make sense, in a way. The Ghoulies obviously want revenge, and territory from the sound of things last night. The tape, though, puzzles him. Why film his torture and send it to his dad. He’s in prison, so the chances he’ll see it are slim anyways, and it wouldn’t change anything. If he’s hoping for a war, he’ll be disappointed because there’s no way his dad can give those kinds of orders from prison.

Jughead gets an idea. Surge didn’t want him joining the Serpents, threatened to kill them multiple times, as well. Maybe the tape is for them. Maybe the Serpents shared Malachai’s assumption that he’d take over the gang. If that’s true, then the Ghoulies clearly thought Jughead had a deep attachment to the Serpents, hence the threats from Surge. It would make sense, then, for the tape to be recorded and sent to the Southside Serpents, _not_ his dad, but since his dad is still alive and still King, the Ghoulies would still address it to him. Malachai would probably believe that Jughead’s torture would either incite enough anger to start a war between the two gangs, or crush their spirits enough to make them vulnerable. Either way, Jughead thinks he knows what Malachai is after now. He wants the Serpents _gone_ and he’s going to try to start a war to do it.

Jughead had hoped that the intel he gathered would be physical evidence or voice recordings. He had thought he’d be able to turn things in to Sheriff Keller, and get the Ghoulies thrown in jail. Now, he’s not so sure. Not only does he not have the physical proof he would need, he also has doubts that the Sheriff would get in the middle of a gang war. There is the drug lab, though, and that could get Keller’s attention, so long as no one is pulling any strings. Jughead spends the time at the library thinking of a plan to stop the Ghoulies entirely. Even though Jughead never wanted to join the Serpents, he feels oddly protective of them, like he needs to look out for them since his dad can’t. They’ve taken care of him several times now and he owes them this, his loyalty. It’s clear that his sacrifice to be their ‘errand boy’ isn’t going to prevent anything, and he’s not a good fighter, so he needs a new approach.

That brings about another question. Why was he at Southside High last night? Jughead doesn’t think they’d let him go, not after the torture they exposed him to. It wouldn’t make sense for them to send that video and not keep Jughead captive. The Ghoulies could have used him as a pawn, someone to taunt the Serpents with, not knowing that the Serpents don’t care about him. Jughead tries to remember. He knows he passed out during the beating; the pain from the burn was too intolerable for his body to handle. But what happened after? His wrists throb in memory and Jughead realizes the gauges in them are from him twisting his hands to wiggle them out of the shackles. He had woken up after the beating, to loud music and men clearing out to go back upstairs for booze and partying. Jughead had waited until they left him alone to start struggling against his bonds. When he has gotten one hand free, he tried prying open the other, but wasn’t strong enough without both hands. Once both hands were free, the shackles on his ankles were easily removed. From there, he had used the tripod to break the tiny window high up in the corner, climbing on a wobbly chair to crawl through it. He thinks he remembers someone grabbing his ankle, then running through the woods. That would explain why he only has one shoe. He must’ve run all the way to Southside on autopilot because he doesn’t remember making it there.

Another memory pops up, of him taking the memory card from the camera. He put it in his jacket. Reaching into the pocket, he doesn’t find anything and tries to think if it fell out while he was running. But then he remembers when he woke up that he was in different clothes, clothes he’s still wearing. He had grabbed the jacket on the way out, but his beanie had been folded on the coffee table. They’d gone through his pockets, they must have. Jughead cards a hand through his hair knowing he’ll have to go back to the trailer and find Sweet Pea. He’ll demand they give him the card back, somehow convince them of it. He doesn’t want them to see him like that, doesn’t want them to know he’s really as weak as they think he is. A growl from his stomach and a wave of dizziness tells Jughead he should head home to find some food. He winces as he stands up and makes his way back to his bike.

Pulling up to the trailer, Jughead notes that Sweet Pea’s bike is still there, along with Fangs’. He takes a deep breath, pulls his backpack higher up his shoulders and walks in. The two Serpents are still sat at the kitchen table and look up when the door opens. The smell of greasy food fills the space and Jughead’s mouth waters at the sight of takeout from Pop’s sitting on the table. Almost unconsciously, he gravitates to the kitchen, stomach rumbling loudly. Another wave of dizziness passes through him and he stumbles, reaching out to catch himself against the wall. The strain on his bruised body makes him groan and squeeze his eyes closed.

Suddenly, strong arms are wrapping around his chest gently, applying just enough pressure to lift him back to his feet. A hand on the back of his neck guides him forward while the other hand keeps hold of his arm in case he falls. Opening his eyes as they walk to the kitchen table, Jughead sees Fangs, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. Sweet Pea must be the one holding him, then. Sweet Pea maneuvers Jughead into a chair, sitting next to him and keeping a steady hand on his arm. Jughead briefly considers that it’s to keep him from running, but then Fangs is handing him water and painkillers and Jughead loses the train of thought. He swallows the medicine and finishes the water, before allowing himself to wonder why the two Serpents are here, in his trailer. He thought for sure that Sweet Pea would be gone by the time he got back. A partially unwrapped burger is shoved into his line of sight, and Jughead’s thoughts are further derailed. He grabs the food quickly, barely pausing between bites to chew and finishes the burger in only a few minutes. He didn’t realize how hungry he was, still is actually. As he thinks that, Sweet Pea is passing over a basket of fries, expression slightly startled at the way Jughead begins to inhale those too.

Fangs is the voice of reason, telling Jughead to slow down or he’ll make himself sick. Jughead obeys, nothing on his mind except sating his hunger. It’s not until he’s half done with the basket of fries that Jughead realizes he’s probably eating what was supposed to be _their_ dinner. He looks up at the two, feeling guilty, and confused at their kindness. They’re watching him eat, expressions carefully blank.

“Sorry,” Jughead tells them. He wants to offer to pay them back for the food, but only has five dollars left to his name. He figures he should get a new job, or maybe ask his foster family for an allowance, not that he ever sees them.

“Where the hell do you put all that food?” Sweet Pea bursts out and Fangs cackles at his side. Jughead feels himself blush, dropping the fry he just had between his fingers back into the cardboard tray. Sweet Pea looks frustrated at that and pushes the tray closer to Jughead. “Keep eating. You look like you haven’t had a decent meal in weeks, and I don’t wanna have to catch you because you keep passing out.”

The words sound patronizing, but Sweet Pea looks genuinely concerned. Jughead shoves more fries in his mouth and thinks that Sweet Pea kind of sucks at expressing his emotions. Everything he says sounds like a fight, but then again Jughead did yell at him just this morning, so maybe it’s justified.

When Jughead finishes the last fry, it occurs to him that the other two are being too quiet. They’re waiting to see what Jughead’s next move will be, but Jughead’s still hungry and the only thing on his mind is food. Sweet Pea catches on first, noticing the way he’s looking around for something more to eat. He snatches the half crumpled take out bag and pulls it out of Jughead’s reach. Jughead is too focused on the fact that there is _more_ , to think about what they’ll want in return. Luckily, Sweet Pea is too willing to lay out the rules.

“Alright Jones, this is how it’s gonna work. We ask you some questions, you give us the honest answers, and we give you some more food.” Jughead glares at him.

“You think you can use food to bait me into telling you all my secrets?” Jughead scorns. “You’re delusional, both of you. I can get my own food and this is my home, anyways, so if you don’t like it, you can leave.”

“Woah, calm down Jones,” Fogarty put his hands up. “We just need to know some information about what happened last night, and if you’re still in danger?”

At the question, Jughead feels nauseous. He’s so stupid to think he’d be safe at the trailer where he lives. The Ghoulies probably know about Sunnyside or they could be looking out for his bike and find him around town. They could’ve found him at the library earlier. Not only that, but now Fangs and Sweet Pea are here, too, and that puts them in the line of fire. He only remembered what happened this afternoon, but the Ghoulies have known about his escape _all day_. How long until they find him? Will they bring guns? Will they kill him?

A hand is rubbing his back gently, another smoothing the hairs at the nape of his neck, just under his beanie. Jughead feels like his chest is being squeezed in a vice, unable to breath or move. A soft shushing noise is coming from his side, but Jughead is too concerned about the fact that oxygen no longer seemed to be making visits to his lungs.

“Breathe, Jones, breathe,” a soothing voice told him, placing Jughead’s hand on their chest so he could feel the movement. “Match me, okay Jones?” And somehow Jughead did, pulling in one heaving breath after another. His chest hurt like crazy, every lungful of air pressing against his bruised and tender ribcage. He hissed out the next breath, the pain becoming too much. Sweet Pea finally releases his hand, sharing another one of those long gazes with Fangs. Jughead just curls up, not sure how to relieve the ache.

“Jones, how long your chest been hurting?” Fangs asks, and Jughead just mutters something unintelligible with a shrug. “Jones. How long?” he demands.

“Since last night. I’m bruised all over, it’s bound to hurt for a while,” Jughead gives in and responds.

Then Fangs is lifting his shirt despite Jughead’s protests, and running careful but firm fingers over his ribs. He pokes a couple tender ones that make Jughead cry out and grip the edge of the table. Fangs finishes his inspection and allows Jughead to pull his shirt back down.

“I think you’ve got a couple bruised ribs, but they could be fractured,” Fangs diagnoses and Jughead sighs. It’s not a surprise considering the beating he took, but he reminds himself that Fangs and Sweet Pea weren’t there, so they don’t know. That brings another thought forward in Jug’s mind.

“Hey who emptied my pockets last night?” Jughead asks as he gets up to start looking on the floor in the living room area. He needs to find that memory card.

“I did, so we could wash your clothes, they were covered in blood, man,” Fangs explains sweetly, making Jughead pause in his search for a moment. These teens are too nice to be in a gang, he decides. Or maybe Jughead should stop stereotyping.

“Did you happen to see a memory card? It was red, came from a camera, only about this big?” Jughead shows them his thumb and finger spread about two inches apart. Both boys shake their head and Jughead huffs in frustration. It must have fell out of his pocket when he was running through the woods. He just hopes the Ghoulies haven’t found it.

“Jones,” Fangs chastises, “You just hyperventilated and strained your injuries, you shouldn’t be crawling on the floor.” Jughead concedes his point as his chest throbs and carefully gets back up, Sweet Pea hovering behind him and ready to offer assistance. Jughead thinks he should be annoyed at all the mothering these Serpents are doing, but actually finds it kind of nice. The only one who cares for him like that, or used to, is Betty and he successfully pushed her away weeks ago.

“Seriously, are you still in danger?” Sweet Pea asks sternly, wanting answers.

“I don’t know,” Jughead is still thinking about the memory card, and answers truthfully on autopilot. “They probably know where I live…” he trails off as he realizes what he’s saying, remembers the danger they’re all in the longer they stay here. “Shit, we should- we should go. Somewhere. Just not here,” he stutters out, close to panicking again. He didn’t want them involved, but now they’re here, been here all day, and Jughead doubts he can get them to leave simply by telling them to- it didn’t work this morning, why would it now?

The other two jump into action. Fangs is grabbing Jugheads backpack and the rest of the food and heading to the door, while Sweet Pea grabs Jughead’s arm on the way out and steers him to his bike, handing Jughead his helmets as he snaps his own in place.

“You’re riding with me. If we leave your bike here, they’ll think your home. It won’t fool whoever it is for long, but might throw them off enough to keep you safe for a while,” Sweet Pea tells him, leaving no room for argument. Jughead nods, serious, and climbs on behind Sweet Pea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos, they feed my soul!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry for the wait! Life got a little crazy this past week, but here is the third chapter! Let me know in the comments what you all think! And let me know if you want something that you aren't seeing. I have a plan for this fic, but can be flexible if you guys have specific ideas you want covered! Thanks for all your patience and support, you guys are the best!

Fangs and Sweet Pea ride side by side on the road, obviously going to a location they’ve both been to before. Soon enough, they’re parking their bikes and pulling Jughead into an apartment building, up a flight of stairs, and through a door. Jughead looks around at the small one bedroom apartment and wonders who lives here. The place is clean, but cluttered with furniture and stuff.

“It’s my cousin’s. I’m house sitting while he’s away for a few days. I doubt anyone will come look for you here,” Fangs explains and gently directs Jughead over to the couch. Sweet Pea sprawls next to him while Fangs takes a seat in a plush, oversized chair across from them. Sweet Pea still has the bag of take out and hands Jughead another burger wrapped in foil.

“Jones, time to tell us what’s going on,” his tone is hard, but worried. Jughead can’t keep it a secret anymore. Fangs and Sweet Pea are already targets, but this time it’s unlikely Jughead will be able to make a deal to keep them alive. If they at least know the danger they are in maybe they can get out of town for a while, take Toni with them. Maybe he’ll beg them to take Betty and Archie too. He takes a deep breath and tells them the short version.

“The Ghoulies did this,” Jughead gestures to his body. “They made a deal with me when I first came to Southside High. As long as I did what they wanted, they’d leave everyone alone. I think they want to start a war with the Serpents, something about stolen territory? They thought they could use me to do it, but I escaped, ran like hell and somehow ended up on the school steps,” Jughead tells the story nonchalantly, skipping some details, hoping they don’t ask for them.

“What deal?” Sweet Pea’s hard tone makes Jug flinch slightly. He tears a little at the foil wrapper in his hands, before sighing in resignation.

“They threatened to kill me if I didn’t become their ‘errand boy’,” Jughead says, finally tearing the foil in earnest and taking a big bite of the burger to hide the lie.

“And you believed them?” Sweet Pea jumps up angrily and stares at Jughead, Jughead glares back.

“One of them carries a gun around school, you asshole! Would you have rather I just let him shoot me?” Jughead yells back at him, waiting until Sweet Pea sits back down to start eating again.

“You should have _told_ us,” Sweet Pea argues, but Jughead is ready for this one, has fought with himself about it enough to know all the reasons he didn’t tell them.

“Why? I’m _not a Serpent_! None of you _know_ me. They wanted to get back at my dad by using me, not you. They threatened my other friends too. Were you going to protect them too? All it would have done was gotten someone killed,” Jughead says finitely, done with this argument. He has suffered the last three weeks and he doesn’t want to be told it was all for nothing, that he made the wrong choice, that he’s an idiot for thinking he could save anyone. Sweet Pea seems to deflate next to him.

“It was a good call, Jughead,” Fangs says, “but you miscalculated something.” Jughead looks at him questioningly, finishing his burger and wiping his hands on his pants. “You’ve got some really good friends on the Northside. We were trying to figure things out on our own- you _are_ our leader’s blood heir, after all, the Serpents are supposed to be _yours_ one day, and you turned us down. Then Archie and Betty came to us, worried about you. We’ve been trying to get you alone for weeks so we could get some answers. Sweet Pea and I have been following you, keeping a look out to try to figure it out. Toni was _pissed_ when we couldn’t find you after school on Friday.”

It makes sense, Jughead realizes, remembering seeing Archie with Toni in the parking lot. He balls his hands into fists, feeling tears pool in his eyes. He’d felt so alone these last few weeks, so used, and hurt, but the whole time, his friends were trying to save him. Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Toni fit into that category too, now, since they’ve been helping. Sweet Pea is watching him warily, like he might explode or something, but still carefully puts an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in to a comforting kind of side hug.

“In the Serpents, we look after our own, and even though you keep denying it, you’re one of us, Jughead. One day, you’ll get that through your thick skull and fucking join up, like you should’ve from the start,” Sweet Pea tells him, and it makes Jughead laugh, helps him hold in the tears. He doesn’t think he’ll ever join the Serpents, even though he’s starting to want to. This thing with the Ghoulies won’t be easy to end.

Jughead thinks about this new development with Sweet Pea and Fangs, tries to figure out what the next move should be. Fangs and Sweet Pea are waiting for him, he realizes, so he says, “I think I have a plan. We have to be secretive about it, though. The Ghoulies are itching for any excuse to come after the Serpents. The more Serpents that get involved, the more danger we’re all in,” Jughead waits for the two boys to nod in agreement. “We’re going to give the Sheriff a reason to raid the Ghoulies’ hang out. With tangible proof that he and the mayor can’t deny.” Fangs and Sweet Pea share a look, and Jughead feels a plan coming together.

“We’re listening,” Sweet Pea leans forward in anticipation and excitement, his arm still around Jughead. Fangs nods in agreement from across them, leaning on his knees now.

“They have a drug lab in their basement, and we’re going to get photos of it all,” Jughead tells them. “We’re going to need a distraction though.”

Together the three of them spend the night scheming of ways to get the evidence they need. Jughead never thought he’d be spending his weekend buying supplies and reviewing the blueprints for a bomb, but that’s just what he does. They won’t use it where anyone can be killed, but he thinks that blowing up the Ghoulies’ bikes will be a great distraction. It has the added benefit of being satisfying to watch, too. Once they’re distracted, Jughead’ll sneak to the basement to take pictures, using the window he broke the other day. Sweet Pea and Fangs will be there for backup and to keep watch while he’s down there. After that, he’ll go to Sheriff Keller and the mayor and demand justice or he’ll release the information to Alice Cooper at the Register. Jughead plans to look for the memory card while he’s there. He doesn’t want that video released if he can help it, so the sooner he finds it, the better.

They spend the better part of the night building the bomb after acquiring all the needed parts, before falling asleep. When Jughead wakes up in the morning, he is warm and comfortably curled up against Sweet Pea, who is already awake and scrolling on his phone. Sweet Pea doesn’t comment on it, or look embarrassed, but Jughead can feel his own face heat in a blush. Fangs is clanging around in the kitchen, so Jughead gets up to use the bathroom. Immediately, he misses Sweet Pea’s warmth and shivers slightly as he closes the door. He washes his face and winces at his reflection. The bruises from the day before are ten times darker. He has a black eye on the left side and purple splotches littering both cheeks. A gash has scabbed over on the right side of his forehead, and a scrape on his chin. Pulling up his shirt, he gasps at the blend of purple, blue, and black, that is painted across his torso. Some bruising on his ribs is darker than the rest, and his eyes catch on the bandage still covering the brand. Carefully, he removes it, staring fascinatedly at the distorted skull on his skin, red and puffy. It hurts less today, but still tender enough that the slightest touch against it makes him jerk and hiss in pain. He finds Fogarty’s first aid kit and replaces the bandage on his ribs, as well as the ones on his wrists, before heading to the kitchen to help Fangs make pancakes.

It’s early Sunday evening when Jughead decides it’s a good time to head to the Ghoulies’ hangout. The three of them stop by Jughead’s trailer to grab his camera. He has his backpack with him, containing the camera and disassembled homemade bomb. They’ll put it together if and when they get to their destination. He rides with Sweet Pea on his motorcycle most of the way there, with Fangs following behind. Jughead signals for Sweet Pea to turn off the road and the three of them push the two bikes into the woods behind some trees. Jughead pulls his beanie back on, feeling more comfortable that way, and walks into the woods. When they comes out the other side, they’re in the parking lot. The Ghoulies’ bikes are nicely lined up near the front of the building, which works well with his plan. Not many Ghoulies are here, but after they blow up some bikes, Jughead’s sure more will be called in to help with the situation. Jughead spots some Ghoulies smoking on the side of the building again, and stays low to the ground as he moves towards the bikes, signaling for Sweet Pea and Fangs to stay back. The sun has set enough that the darkness should cover him, but just in case, tries to stay on a path that would be unnoticed from their vantage point.

He chooses a bike in the middle, and hurries to unpack the pieces. After carefully assembling them, he uses duct tape to stick it to the gas tank. He pulls his camera around his neck and slings the bag over his shoulder. Even that movement hurts his ribs and Jughead knows he’s going to be beyond sore tonight. The bomb is designed to only go off from some kind of impact, so when he gets to the end of the line, he shoves the motorcycles, hard as he can, then sprints toward the woods where Sweet Pea and Fangs are waiting. A deafening bang cuts through the air and the ground vibrates, making Jughead stumble as he runs, and Sweet Pea grabs his arm to keep him from falling. Putting the bomb on the gas tank amplified the explosion and fire quickly engulfs the bikes. They wait quietly a minute as all the Ghoulies rush outside, then circle around to the back of the building.

Jughead carefully slips through the small window leading into the basement. The gang has nailed a few small pieces of wood across it, but Jughead easily kicks them out of the way. The jagged glass cuts his arm through his jacket on his way in, but he ignores it and pulls up his camera to take as many pictures as he can of the drug lab, the equipment, the supplies, even the packaging. He even finds boxes of Jingle Jangle and snaps photos of those, too. He’s debating if he should take some of them. He tells himself it would be for evidence, wonders if Jingle Jangle can make him feel the same relief as the syringe they poke him with. He’s startled from his internal struggle when he hears footsteps coming down the stairs, followed by angry shouts. Shit, Jughead thought he’d have more time.

“Jones,” comes a whisper from the window and when Jughead looks up, Sweet Pea’s arm is reaching through to help him up, urging him to hurry. Jughead leaves the drugs behind, his heart sinking at the missed opportunity, and scrambles to the window.

He takes one last look at the large room, noting that he doesn’t see the red memory card anywhere on the ground. Then, with no time to spare, Jughead grabs his hand and is hauled through the broken window. Not fast enough, if the loud shouts coming from the building are anything to go by. The three teens run like hell through the woods, stumbling over roots and under branches. Jughead only turns back once, when he notices Sweet Pea lag behind. The taller boy meets his gaze and doubles his efforts to catch up with Jughead and Fangs. They make it to the bikes and hop on, not bothering with clasping the helmets, instead just shoving them roughly onto their heads. Jughead wraps his arms around Sweet Pea as he speeds off down the road. He drives around for an hour to make sure no one is following them before coming to a stop on an overpass by Sweetwater River, Fangs right behind them.

When Sweet Pea removes Jug’s arms to get off the bike, Jughead misses the warmth of the other boy. He doesn’t really know him, but something about Sweet Pea is very comforting, like Jughead feels safe in his presence. When Jughead gets off the bike as well, he sees Sweet Pea muttering into his fist and running a large hand through his hair as it flops softly against his forehead. Jughead laughs a little, then a lot, the endorphins catching up to him, filling him with energy. Sweet Pea just stares at him a moment like he’s crazy. Then, Fangs joins in on the laughter as Sweet Pea just watches them.

“What the actual _fuck_?” Sweet Pea whispers incredulously into the night. Louder, he exclaims, “Seriously, Jones, what the _fuck_?” Jughead calms down enough to hold in the giggles and just grins at Sweet Pea, who’s grinning back. Amazement and glee are obvious in his expression and Jughead knows his mirrors that.

“We just _blew up_ some Ghoulies’ bikes, _that’s what_ , man!” Fangs exclaims, clapping a hand on both Jughead and Sweet Pea’s backs, his excitement and adrenaline running high. After a moment of calming down, Jughead decides some gratitude is in order.

“Thank you, both, for helping” Jughead tells them. “I could’ve been dead if you didn’t show up when you did.” Sweet Pea nods, looking a little uncomfortable at the gratitude, which Jughead finds funny since just yesterday he was lecturing Jughead on being more grateful. Fangs smiles and accepts the sentiment for what it is. “Anyways, I have to bring this evidence to the Sheriff. You want to drop me off?”

“And risk you getting found by those Ghoulies? Yeah, right!” Jughead raises and eyebrow at him and Sweet Pea scratches the back of his neck, “Obviously, I’m coming with you, Dumbass.” Jughead laughs and they both get back on the bike and ride to the Northside to find Sheriff Keller. Fangs tells them he’ll meet them at his cousin’s apartment later.

Sheriff Keller is less than impressed with Jughead showing up on his doorstep. When Jughead shows him the pictures, he’s less hostile, but still annoyed. He calls the mayor to get her approval for a raid at the warehouse, and when it sounds like she might argue, Jughead reminds Sheriff Keller of his threat to give the Register tomorrow morning’s scoop. The yelling he can hear coming from the phone pressed to the sheriff’s ear tells Jughead she’s not happy, but that he’ll get his way. He tells the teens to meet him at the station to turn over the evidence as he grabs his car keys.

When they enter the station, it’s a buzz of activity. Sheriff Keller is organizing teams to start the raid and readying the squad cars. An administrator helps Jughead with the evidence submission, allowing him to hand over the memory card with the photos on them, rather than the whole camera. By the time he finishes filling out forms recounting what he saw, minus the bomb part, the sheriff’s station is empty, the men off to make arrests. Jughead and Sweet Pea head out too, but instead of going to the Southside, Jughead tells Sweet Pea to take them to Pop’s. He’s feeling victorious and wants a burger and milkshake to celebrate. Sweet Pea grumbles a little at first, but when their food arrives, he digs in with vigor.

Jughead digs into his meal, shoving handfuls of fries into his mouth and chasing them with strawberry milkshake. He watched Sweet Pea as he ate and laughed under his breath at the absurdity of this all. He almost can’t believe he’s eating burgers with a guy he yelled at just a day ago. It’s probably a miracle they’re not fighting right now. Sweet Pea sends him a weird look and puts down is half eaten burger.

“Alright Jones, you need to tell me what the hell is going on,” Sweet Pea says tiredly, arms crossing over his chest. Jughead supposes he deserves that after all the beating around the bushes he’s done. Sweet Pea knows he’s only being told half the whole story.

The problem is Jughead doesn’t know if it’s wise to tell him. Even with the raid tonight, there’s no way all the Ghoulies will be caught and jailed. If the Serpents hear they’ve been threatened, they’ll try to attack, and with F.P. still in jail, and no new leadership stepping up, Jughead doesn’t think they’d all make it out. There would be bloodshed and casualties on both sides and Jughead wants to avoid that, if at all possible. Jughead tugs his beanie further down over his ears, debating.

“Look, Jones, we can’t help you, if you don’t let us,” Sweet Pea encourages.

“Yeah, but there’s a price. There’s always a price. You help me, and I have to help you. I’m not interested in anymore servitude. I’m not a Serpent and I never can be,” Jughead says, trying to avoid the conversation.

“You _could_ _too_ be,” Sweet Pea says, and Jughead laughs, thrown off guard by the sincerity.

“Pretty sure I remember you wanting nothing to do with me when we met,” Jughead points out and Sweet Pea looks a little ashamed.

“Okay, so I’m an asshole sometimes,” he shrugs, but continues, “It’s not that. I was pissed you wanted nothing to do with _us_.” Jughead winces at that. He’s been nothing but rude to the Serpents since arriving at Southside, and if he’s honest, it wasn’t just because of the Ghoulies.

“I’m sorry,” Jughead says simply. “The Serpents… the gang was my dad’s thing. He drank himself stupid and ran the Southside Serpents. You can see where the tension comes from, right?” Sweet Pea nods. It’s not a complete lie, and it’s enough to hopefully put the conversation on a different track.

“F.P. was a good leader. I know he had his problems,” Jughead huffs at that, “but he’s a good man. He helped us find a family of people who protect each other. Most of us didn’t have that before,” Sweet Pea tells him. Jughead gets it, he does, but there is still a small part that resents his dad for caring more about a gang than his own son, and, in turn, he resents the Serpents for it too.

“I know my dad is a good person. I know he was trying to fix things, but he was ‘trying’ for years. The only thing that’s helped him pull himself together is that they don’t serve liquor in prison. But he can’t be a dad from inside a jail cell. And I know it’s not his fault, but he’s never around when I need him,” Jughead says. Maybe it’s petty to continue that perspective of things, but Jughead feels robbed of a normal childhood, a happy family. “I’ve been working on not feeling that way about it anymore, but it’s going to take time,” Jughead finishes lamely, trying not to sound like a total asshole.

“I get that. And it’s fine, but you just got a bunch of Ghoulies arrested tonight. You’re going to need people watching your back,” Sweet Pea switches back to the issue at hand. “And I got dragged into this mess, so I need to know what’s going on.” Jughead sighs. This guy really has a one-track mind when it comes to getting what he wants.

“I can’t tell you, and if you’re going to keep asking, I’m leaving your ass here and walking home,” Jughead warns him.

“Can’t or won’t?” he pressures.

“Does it matter, Sweet Pea? I’m not telling you shit. You helped me out tonight, but you’ve also been stalking me, so don’t tell me I owe you.” It’s quiet for a moment, both boys staring each other down across the table. When Sweet Pea keeps silent, Jughead goes back to eating his fries.

“You’re addicted,” Sweet Pea states, abruptly, and Jughead looks up in confusion. “To the drugs. I saw the way you were staring at that box of Jingle Jangle,” he clarifies. Jughead doesn’t know what to say to that. He wants to deny it, but telling the truth , or at least part of it, might make a good cover story.

Jughead settles with “Yeah I’m addicted, so what?” Sweet Pea raises his eyebrows in surprise and Jughead thinks maybe he agreed too easily, wonders if he can backtrack.

“So what? So that shit’s gonna kill you! How did you even get into them? I know Toni told you to stay away from that stuff.” he presses. Jughead looks uneasily to the side. He could go with the story that he just wanted to let go and be a teenager, but he doesn’t want Sweet Pea chastising him any more than he already is. He settles on the truth,

“The Ghoulies got me hooked. It wasn’t Jingle Jangle, it was something else, I don’t know what,” Jughead says. “And yeah, I crave it all the time, and get cranky when I don’t get it for a couple days, but I’m not physically dependent on it. I don’t get the shakes or the vomiting you get with withdrawal. So, I’m handling it,” Jughead explains. Sweet Pea still looks concerned.

“Why do you like doing it?” he asks quietly, like he’s trying to understand.

“Isn’t that the whole point of drugs? To make you like them? For you to feel good?” Jughead takes a small breath to calm down his defensiveness. “I like them because they make my head quiet, like they’re turning off all my stray thoughts. They allow me to just… let go,” he finishes with a shrug. Sweet Pea sighs.

“Okay, we’re going to work on that,” he says and Jughead makes a half confused, half surprised noise. Sweet Pea obviously intends for their friendship to continue past blowing up rival gangs’ bikes, but Jughead hasn’t agreed to anything, still doesn’t understand why he’s so invested. “Tell me why you can’t be a Serpent,” Sweet commands, breaking through his thoughts.

“You _know_ why,” Jughead says, annoyed. “This damn mark pretty much ensures that no other group is going to see me as anything but a Ghoulie,” he says venomously. Sweet Pea laughs, startled.

“You think the Serpents won’t let you in because of a scar? Because the Ghoulies forced their mark on you?” Sweet Pea’s tone is amusingly incredulous and Jughead blushes.

“But the Ghoulies said-,”

“Don’t listen to the Ghoulies, they’re all liars,” Sweet Pea cuts him off with a smile, before getting more serious. “Why can’t you ever just give me a straight answer?” he asks, exasperated, but not angry.

Jughead sighs and shakes his head, the curl of hair on his forehead bouncing with the movement. He wants to tell Sweet Pea that he doesn’t trust them, that he always hated the gang life, that his father is in jail because he got wrapped up in all this. He wants to tell him that the Ghoulies have made his distrustful and lonely. That they’ve tarnishes him, broken him more than just what’s visible on his body. Most of all, he wants to tell him that he’s protecting them in the only way he can, by staying quiet. He doesn’t say any of this, just leaves some cash on the table for the meal and starts heading for the exit, Sweet Pea close behind him.

The ride back to the apartment is tense, but Jughead doesn’t know what to do about it. Logically, he knows the danger is gone with the arrest of the Ghoulies. Something in him is still scared to get the Serpents involved, or Betty and Archie, too. He’s been doing this alone for weeks, and maybe the situation should end that way, with no one but him knowing about how close the Southside came to war, how far he went to ensure the safety of the people he’s come to like and understand.

Sweet Pea parks the bike and the two of them make their way up the flights of stairs. They enter the apartment to see Toni and Fangs huddled around a laptop, tears falling from Toni’s eyes, rslightly smudging her mascara. They both look up when the door opens, and the volume from the laptop is low enough that Sweet Pea and Jughead can’t hear it. Sweet Pea starts asking what’s wrong, but Jughead stops in his tracks, feeling his ears ring as his eyes fixate on the familiar red memory card barely visible, sticking out the side of Fangs’s laptop. Fangs is watching him, trying to say something, but Jughead feels sick, betrayed and sick. He makes a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and making it to the toilet just in time to vomit his dinner. They told him they didn’t have it. They knew he was looking for it and they lied. He closes his eyes against the panicky flutter in his chest, the throb in his bruised ribs. Wasn’t it enough they saw his injuries, his pain? Why do they have to watch his humiliation, his weakness, his worthlessness?

Jughead can feel himself struggling to breathe and the pain in his chest grows. His eyes are searching the bathroom for a way out, a window, a weapon, a hole that will just swallow him up, anything! He’s trapped, though, and he’s weak and alone and _broken_. He curls up in the shower, turning the water on to muffle his crying, to save him the embarrassment, to drown out his thoughts. There’s someone banging on the door, and he can hear shouting, too, but he’s hurting and can’t breathe, and just wants to be alone, so he makes no effort to get up from his position. That’s how Sweet Pea finds him, when he finally gets the lock picked, curled up under the cold spray with his head to his knees.

“Shit, Jones,” Sweet Pea says under his breath, closing the door behind him.

Jughead is soaked and chilled to the bone, but paralyzed by the panic in his head. The constant thought that they know, they know, they know, running on repeat. He feels weak, pathetic, and worthless. Sweet Pea still comes over and turns off the water, still sits on the wet floor of the shower stall next to Jughead, and still wraps a warm arm around his shoulders. Sweet Pea’s warm hand, rubs his shoulder soothingly, while the other gently grasps the wrist of his other hand and brings it to Sweet Pea’s chest so that Jughead can feel his breaths. Belatedly, Jughead realizes he’s gasping desperately and shallowly for air that he can’t seem to find. Panic attack, Jughead’s brain supplies.

Sweet Pea stays calm, a welcome presence in the small space, and as Jug finally manages to match his breathing with Sweet Pea’s, he presses himself into Sweet Pea’s side, clinging to him with eyes clenched shut. Sweet Pea bends forward so he can reach the cabinet of the vanity across from them and finds a spare towel. It’s blue and scratchy, but comforting as Sweet Pea wraps it around Jughead, and pulls him closer. The shivers that had been wracking his slight frame ease somewhat and Jughead feels himself relax completely against the larger boy next to him, too exhausted to keep fighting. Instead, he retreats deep into his mind, letting the taller boy take care of him completely.

When Sweet Pea feels the tension leave Jughead’s curled up form, he squeezes him a little tighter, a little more securely. When the cold of the wet shower floor even starts seeping into _his_ bones, he knows it’s time to get up and get dry. He carefully stands before lifting Jughead up to lean against the wall. Jughead catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’s a mess, with his beanie and hair dripping water down his pale face and his sopping clothes clinging to his slim figure. That doesn’t hold Jughead’s attention for long, though. His eyes are drawn to their reflection and the sight is jarring. Jughead has never seen himself look so withdrawn, never seen his eyes so dead and haunted, so resigned.

Sweet Pea walks back into the bathroom in different clothes, and a stack of clothes in his arms. He hands the stack to Jughead, who takes them but just stands there looking at them. It’s like his mind is in a fog. He knows he’s supposed to be changing, but his muscles don’t want to move, don’t want to start the process. Sweet Pea gives him a weird look before taking the clothes back from him and setting them on the counter.

“I’m gonna help you, okay?” Sweet Pea asks, but gets no reponse. “Jones, I need an answer.”

Jughead watches him a moment and wishes he could tell him to go away, to leave him alone in his misery. The shivers have returned, though, and Jughead can’t make him arms move, can’t remember how to take off his shirt or unbutton his jeans. He feels trapped in his own body, like he’s watching the world from underwater. A minute goes by with Sweet Pea scrutinizing him, and Jughead struggles to nod, jerkily, agreeing to let Sweet Pea change his clothes, while Jughead tries to remember how to move without forgetting how to breathe.

Sweet Pea lets out the breath he’d been holding and walks forward into Jughead’s space. He starts by removing his beanie, squeezing out some of the water, and setting it carefully on the edge of the sink. He carefully unbuttons his jacket and slips it off his shoulders, then his flannel, until he’s left in just a t-shirt. Jughead sighs at the warmth of Sweet Pea’s hands as they slip under his shirt to lift it over his head. Sweet Pea is gentle as he peels off the wet bandages and grabs new ones, reapplying them meticulously. Jughead has the fleeting thought that Sweet Pea would make an excellent nurse. Sweet Pea’s movements are quick and efficient, but his fingers linger a moment at the edges of the fresh bandage on Jughead’s ribs. Before Jughead can dwell on it, Sweet Pea is pulling a fresh shirt over his head, the scent of dryer sheets filling his nose.

Jughead snaps back into himself when Sweet Pea fingers lightly graze his lower belly, grabbing for the button of his black jeans. Jughead gasps quietly at the contact, as the button is undone, before slowly moving his hands to rest on Sweet Pea’s wrists. Sweet Pea looks back up at him, wondering why Jughead stopped him. He searches his face for a moment and then pulls his hands away and takes a step back. Jughead’s hands go to his jeans, the muscle memory finally kicking in. Jughead feels himself blush as the world becomes less muted. Dissociation, his brain tells him, and Jughead wonders how he retained this information from his Psychology 101 class at Riverdale High, when he mostly slept through the lectures.

Jughead finishes stripping down, only tripping once when the pants get caught on his shoes. He grimaces at the worn and ripped canvas of his soaking wet sneakers, but kicks them off as Sweet Pea snickers. Sweet Pea turns around when Jughead changes his boxers and only turns back around when he hears Jughead drying his hair with the towel, leaving his hair rumpled and slightly curled. Jughead is barefoot in ripped black skinny jeans that are too long for him and bunch at the ankle. The dark grey t-shirt he’s wearing has short sleeves that come down to his elbows. He realizes they must be Fangs’s clothes, he’s taller and more muscular than Jughead, but not as much as Sweet Pea. Looking at Sweet Pea, he looks both angry and concerned all at once. Jughead knows he should apologize, understands why he’s mad, but he can’t bring himself to feel sorry for his actions.

“Just so we’re clear, Jones, I’m pissed at you,” Sweet Pea confirms even as he is pulling off his hoodies and shoving it over Jug’s head to stop his shivering. The sweatshirt is warm and smells like smoky wood and cinnamon, and it reminds Jughead of burning incense. If Sweet Pea wasn’t about to lecture him, he’d snuggle in to the soft fabric that falls to his knees, but he refrains. Sweet Pea sighs softly with a fond look on his face. “You make it hard to stay mad when you look so…” he waves a hand at Jughead, who tilts his head in confusion. “Nevermind,” he grumbles, a sour expression coming back to his face. “Look, Jones, you lied to me, and I _hate_ being lied to. So tell me _why_ you lied, and tell me the truth, or I can’t keep backing you up.”

Jughead furrows his brows. Isn’t Sweet Pea going to demand he apologize? Maybe he knows Jughead doesn’t want forgiveness for doing nothing wrong. Either way, Jughead supposes it’s time to tell the truth now. They’ve seen the video, so they must know, but Sweet Pea wants to hear the _why_. “I didn’t want them to succeed at starting a stupid gang war. I thought I had it handled- _did_ have it handled,” he tells the taller boy, who straightens his back and stands at his full height, intimidating.

“So you just rode off with them to let them beat you up?” Sweet Pea grits out, and Jughea imagines steam would be coming out of his nose if this were a cartoon.

“There were rules I had to follow orders, or they’d kill you guys, Betty and Archie, too. So yeah, I went with them, no questions asked, no resistance,” Jughead says in an even tone.

“They _threatened our lives_ , Jones! And you didn’t think we should know that? You didn’t think it was important to tell us that we should watch our backs?” Sweet Pea hisses through his teeth making Jughead flinch slightly.

“ _I_ was watching your backs. If I told you, you all would’ve retaliated. My silence was to keep the peace. This way the Ghoulies got what they wanted and you guys stayed relatively safe. Win-win,” Jughead shrugs, seeming nonchalant. It makes Sweet Pea bristle.

“And what about _you_?” he roars. “How were you protecting _yourself?_ Oh, that’s right, you weren’t! _You let them beat you to a bloody pulp and barely escaped!_ If you told us, we could’ve _helped you!_ ” Sweet Pea is breathing heavy, fists clenched, by the time he finishes and Jughead has shifted to mirror him, can feel his nails pressing against his palm where his fingers have curled in.

“Why the fuck do you care so much, anyway! I’m just a pathetic nobody, remember? A worthless moron who can’t protect anyone, playing the part of the sacrificial lamb because that’s all I _can_ do, that’s all I’m capable of, isn’t it?” Jughead’s yelling has gradually morphed until he was growling out the words. Sweet Pea’s stance slouched, fists uncurled. He looked guilty and Jughead remembers that Sweet Pea spoke some of those words to him during their fight. He continues quietly, “So yeah I let them beat me up, let them humiliate me whenever they wanted. If that’s all it takes to keep everyone safe, then who cares about my bruised pride.”

Sweet Pea steps forward slowly, as if checking it’s okay with Jughead, before getting close enough to wrap his arms around the smaller boy and pull him into an unexpected hug that leaves Jugheads fists trapped between their chests. His head is bowed, resting his cheek on the top of Jug’s head and Jughead’s finger unclench to fist into the material of Sweet Pea’s shirt, instead.

“ _Shit_ ,” Sweet Pea whispers out. “I’m sorry. I’m so _fucking sorry_. I didn’t mean that- I _didn’t_ , okay? I just wanted you to trust us with this, and when you _didn’t_ … I got mad and I said those shitty things and I’m just- I’m sorry,” he gasps out, stammering slightly. Jughead uses the hands tangled in Sweet Pea’s shirt to pull himself closer to him, dislodging Sweet Pea’s head from its resting place. He leans his forward against Sweet Pea’s solid chest, nodding to the apology.

Jughead doesn’t understand Sweet Pea who went from wanting nothing to do with him to wanting to help him and comfort him. The Sweet Pea who yelled those burning words clashed with the one who now hugs him tightly with a desperate apology. Jughead thinks maybe he’s too oblivious to other people, and that’s why he doesn’t get it, but he thinks Sweet Pea is being too nice, now, too apologetic. He doesn’t want that, would rather he yell and punch and hurt Jughead because Jughead is used to that, knows what to do with that kind of emotion. Now, he just feels helpless, out of his depth. Sweet Pea must take his nod for the forgiveness it was and rubs Jughead’s back comfortingly as he separates from the hug, keeping Jughead within arm’s reach the whole time.

Before anything more can be said, the awkward, maybe slightly touching, moment is broken by Jughead’s stomach growling. He had thrown up most of his dinner and was starving again. Sweet Pea chuckles loudly and pulls Jughead by the arm to the door.

“C’mon, the others ordered pizza and there might be some left,” he tells Jughead. Just like that, Jughead realizes, Sweet Pea has forgiven him for lying and moved on. It makes Jughead smile and follow him willingly into the kitchen, forgetting he will have to face the other two Serpents when he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudos if you enjoyed! And comment to let me know your thoughts!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Chapter Four is up! On time and everything this week. I hope you all like it!  
> Trigger Warnings for Rape/Non-Con, Violence, and Non-Con drug use this chapter.  
> Comment and leave kudos below if you enjoyed! Thanks everyone!

Toni and Fangs look up at him as Sweet Pea pulls him down into a chair. Jughead avoids eye contact, content to trace the grain of the wooden table with a finger, instead. To his surprise, Sweet Pea is shoving a plate loaded with pizza under his nose, along with a napkin- a detail that makes Jughead’s lips twitch in amusement. He finally looks up at the room’s other two occupants and takes a bite of the pizza. It’s cold now, but the flavors of melted cheese and tomato sauce on crisp dough are still heavenly on his tongue. Toni is watching him eat, her eyes are red rimmed, but all other traces of tears are gone. Fangs keeps looking between Jughead and Sweet Pea, an eyebrow raised in askance, and when Sweet Pea says nothing, he looks back at Jug with squinted eyes.

Jughead slowly puts down the pizza, feeling uncomfortable under all the scrutiny and finally asks, “What?”

Fangs shakes his head, talks to Sweet Pea through his eyes again, and then says, “Nothing, sorry. Just glad you’re okay, is all.”

Jughead turns his attention to Toni, who is still watching him, but Sweet Pea puts a hand on Toni’s shoulder, stealing her attention. It gives Jughead time to eat another bite of pizza, unobserved and his stomach growls again in impatience at his slow pace, making him flush bright red again. Fangs laughs at him and even Toni cracks a smile, but Sweet Pea just looks pointedly at his plate.

“Eat,” he tells him, so Jughead does, because he really is hungry, and because it means he can put off the twenty questions they have for him just a little bit longer.

Digging in, Jughead somehow manages to get sauce all over his fingers and lips, which he happily licks off before excusing himself to wash his hands. When he returns, Fangs is ribbing Sweet Pea about something while Toni laughs. Jughead smiles at their antics but feels a pang of sorrow that he isn’t part of this, that he didn’t take them up on their offer to join the Serpents that first day. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Then again, maybe _they_ would have. Shaking off the thought, he retakes his seat at the table. Toni reaches forward and pats his hand.

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Jug,” she says, then adds, “Also, Betty and Archie say hi and that they miss you, and whenever you’re ready you should give them a call.” Jughead smiles sadly at that.

He misses them so much, misses the easy laughter and fun banter. He misses the lighthearted evenings spent at Pop’s and the dangerous sleuthing during the day. He misses his life from when he still attended Riverdale High, but now can't feel mad at having to transfer because it means he got to meet the Serpents. Toni catches his eye again and he looks up.

“What are you thinking in that big brain of yours?” she asks with a friendly smile.

“I don’t know,” Jughead shrugs, “Do you think we would have been friends? If shit didn’t hit the fan the way it did, I mean.”

“Definitely,” Toni says and laughs, “I mean I like to think of us as friends, _now_ , but maybe that’s just me.”

“Dude, do you think I’d just invite _anybody_ over to my cousin’s place? Of course we’re friends!” Fangs exclaims and Jughead laughs at the dramatic boy.

He looks up at Sweet Pea who hasn’t said anything yet, but finds him turning away to wash the dishes. The back of his neck is tinged red and Jughead wonders what made him blush.

“Don’t mind him, he’s not great at _feelings_ , you know?” Fangs whispers conspiratorially to Jug.

“I _heard that_ , Fogarty!” Sweet Pea yells before sending a dishtowel sailing through the air and right into Fangs’s face, who simply responds by laughing harder.

The four of them eventually move to the living room, where they all manage to squish together on the plush sofa, feet up sans shoes on the coffee table, and a movie playing on the television in front of them. Jughead is comfortable compressed between Toni and Sweet Pea, with Fangs on Toni’s other side. Things had seemed fine when Fangs turned the movie on, but slowly the tension in the room has been growing, giving Jughead an itchy feeling under his skin. No one has said anything about the video, or his subsequent tantrum, panic attack, whatever it was. Sweet Pea has barely left his side the whole time and Jughead wonders if he thinks he’s protecting him, if he thinks Jughead is as weak as he said the other morning, and the video and panic attack just proved it.

Now, Toni is staring at Jughead and he tries his hardest not to look at her. He knows his muscles have all tensed up in preparation for a fight he’s trying to ignore, but soon enough he cracks and his eyes slide over to look at her, and she looks a complicated mix of miserable and angry. She takes a deep breath in and Jughead braces himself for the yelling he knows he deserves.

“I’m so sorry, Jug,” is what he gets from her instead, and he tenses up a little more at the unexpected comment, confused and off-balance. Toni runs her hand up and down his arm in a comforting gesture that has him relaxing again, just a little. “I knew you got in a fight, but after you yelled at me… I just ignored it all until Betty cornered me after school. I was hurt, obviously, but I shouldn’t have completely turned my back on you,” Toni says remorsefully and it makes Jughead grit his teeth in anger, fists clenching in his lap.

“I don’t want your _pity_ , Toni, or your apology. I didn’t want your _protection_ then, and I don’t want it now. Everything that happened was _my_ fault. I yelled at you to keep you out of it, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t belittle my efforts to keep you safe. I feel stupid enough as it is without you pointing out all the flaws in what I did, too,” Jughead finishes.

“Woah, hey, that’s not what I meant,” she tries to reason, pausing for a breath. “What I meant to say is _thank you_. For protecting us, even when you barely knew us. What you did takes guts, Jug. Anyone else would’ve let them come for us and been on their way.”

Jughead doesn’t really know what to do with that. Is she saying he’s brave? Or reminding him how stupid his actions were? The genuine concern etched in her face make Jug think it’s the former, she did thank him after all. He deflates guiltily and ashamed at his temper. He reaches an arm around her back in an awkward side hug. Toni sinks into the hug and squeezes his bicep where her hand had paused its ministrations. Fangs smiles on the other side of Toni and invites himself into the hug, wrapping his longer arms as much around the two of them as he can, while Sweet Pea’s chest shakes with silent laughter.

“With all the hugs and feelings going on here, it’s hard to remember you guys are in a _gang_ ,” Jughead grumbles, even though he’s pleased with the comfort. Fangs laughs loudly at that, trying to tickle Jughead’s side, who squeals indignantly and presses back into Sweet Pea to get away. Sweet Pea glares at Fangs and reminds him to be _careful_ , and Jughead worries Fangs will get defensive or annoyed, but instead he just nods with a smile and pulls away. That's good, Jughead doesn't want them to fight, especially not over something to do with him.

“Here, this is for you,” Fangs says as he hands him what looks like the slim handle of a knife with a button. It’s a stiletto switchblade, Jughead realizes, with a well-used wooden handle that someone carved designs into at some point. Jughead holds it carefully in his palm, gingerly turning it over to look at all sides. Finally, he takes off the safety and presses the button to watch the shiny steel blade flip out and lock into place. Jughead gently rubs his thumb against the edge, feeling how sharp it is.

“Aren’t these outlawed in the U.S.?” Jughead asks wryly. Fangs grins at him.

“Not in New Hampshire! This is just an old spare I had, and now it’s yours,” he says. Jughead tests the weight of it in his hand, surprised he doesn’t hate it, before carefully folding the blade back into the handle and replacing the safety. He slips the knife into the pocket of his borrowed jeans.

“Thanks, Fangs,” Jughead says softly to which Fangs just shrugs nonchalantly.

“I’m the one who found the memory card in the woods. I was curious, but I shouldn’t have watched it. And I should have told you about it. I’m sorry, Jones, for betraying your trust like that,” Fangs says honestly and just a tad contrite. Jughead nods, and that’s the end of it. No more guilt, or apologies, or unspoken anger exists between the four of them now. All the secrets and feelings have been let out, and they all feel lighter for it.

The four settle back in for the movie like that, and it’s already one in the morning, but Jughead doesn’t care if he misses school today. He feels warm and safe, and ready to sleep for a week. Jughead does fall asleep before the movie ends, and vaguely notices when Sweet Pea lays them both out on the couch as Toni and Fangs slide to the floor. Jughead wonders briefly if Sweet Pea is cramped, being stuffed into the back of the couch so that Jughead doesn’t fall off, but the warmth of Sweet Pea’s strong arms around him have him falling back to sleep before he can really dwell on it.

When he wakes up, he's alone on the couch, and can smell food being made in the kitchen. Like a zombie, he stumbles into the kitchen, bleary eyed. Toni laughs at him and pushes him into a chair while Fangs slides a cup of coffee across the table to him. Sweet Pea is making waffles in the toaster and soon sets a big plate of them down in the center of the table, pulling some blueberry syrup from the fridge too. Jughead quirks an eyebrow before deciding the sweet and tangy syrup is superior to maple syrup and digging in. It’s weird sharing breakfast with the three Serpents. Jughead is used to doing things on his own, and now that he’s not living with the Andrews anymore, that includes mealtimes. He gets a pang in his heart at the thought of how similar this feels to living with the Andrews, like family.

After breakfast, Jughead manages to find and charge his phone using Fang’s charger. He thinks about checking in on Archie and Betty. It’s almost lunch time and Betty usually has her phone turned on when she’s not in class. Turning the phone on, he has over two dozen notifications. Some are texts from Betty and Archie, checking in on him. They had been texting him every week, but he’d been ignoring them, knowing they’d stop eventually. He’s selfishly glad they didn’t, though. The other messages are from Surge. He starts with the voicemail from the morning he escaped.

“Where are you, Jonesy? We just wanted to play with you. Or do you not remember our deal?” comes the scathing voice through his phone speaker. The next one is similar as well.

“Jonesy!” Surge croons in a singsong. “You’re not being a very good boy right now, are you? You should come back before your punishment gets any worse.”

“Jones! Be a good boy and come back. If I find you, I’ll take care of you, you know? The others don’t have the same intentions.”

“C’mon, Jones! Where are you hiding? Are you with your little snake friends? Don’t they know how tainted you are? Or maybe you went running to daddy?” Surge’s voice mocks, “Too bad he’s stuck behind bars!” Jughead is shaking a little now, knows Sweet Pea is watching him carefully, and wonders how pale he must be to make Sweet Pea so concerned. He doesn’t stop listening though, needing to hear it all so he can clear them away and move on. The next ones start from last night and into today.

“What the fuck did you do, Jones?” Surge rages, “I know it was you that brought the cops here! You’re in so much trouble. When we get our hands on you, there won’t be a prayer left that can save you!”

“Cute move, Jonesy. Getting our members arrested like that. You know what that means, though, right? They're in jail with your old man. I give him a week before they beat him to near death.”

“Come out, come out, Jonesy! I’m not mad anymore, I just want to see you. You missed second period. I told you to stop skipping classes.”

"Jonesy, if you’re not back by the time lunch is over, we’re going to have a problem. I want you ready and waiting on your knees for me, understand?” That one was from twenty minutes ago, meaning lunch is almost over, and Jughead is trying to keep his breaths even as he resists the urge to go do what Surge tells him.

He takes a deep shaky breath and moves on to the text messages. They say the same things as the voicemails, always saying he’s been a bad boy, that he needs to repent on his knees, with his mouth, and Jughead wants to throw up because he’s been conditioned to respond to those words, to please the Ghoulies for weeks now. Even though he knows he’s being treated like a dog, he can’t quite shake the habit, the fear that something horrible will happen if he doesn’t follow orders. He reminds himself that the Serpents are here with him, and Toni and Fangs have already warned the other Serpents at school, and Betty and Archie are safe at Riverdale High.

That reminds Jughead to call Betty, there’s still about ten minutes left for their lunch. He tells the others he’s just going for a walk so he can have some privacy, before slipping out the apartment door. He calls Betty’s number and it rings five times before going to voicemail.

“Hi, this is Betty-,” he hangs up and tries again, twice, but same thing happens.

He tries Archie’s phone but it goes straight to voicemail. Same with Veronica’s, and Jughead doesn’t have Kevin’s number so he’s run out of people to call. His palms feel sweaty as he grips the phone tightly in his hand, willing it to start ringing with a call back from Betty, or Archie. He’s panicking and he knows it’s dumb, that they’re safe at Riverdale, they _have_ to be, right? However, something in his gut is telling him to do something, find out answers, because something is definitely _wrong_. He checks the time, it’s after lunch at Southside, but there’s still five minutes left for Riverdale. Maybe they went to class early?

His phone vibrating in his hand startles him and he hurries to unlock the device to read the new message. His stomach fills with dread when he sees it’s a message from Surge. He opens the messaging app and a video pops up. Jughead swallows roughly and presses play, blood rushing from his head as he sees Betty and Archie, unconscious, and tied up.

“I told you something bad would happen if you disobeyed me, Jonesy. Their deaths will be on _your_ head. But you know where to find us if you want to try begging for their lives,” Surge laughs. “Come alone, Jones, or we’ll kill your pretty Northside friends, and anyone who comes with you. The cops didn’t get all of us, you know. There’s still plenty of us here to massacre your precious little snakes. Clock’s ticking, Jonesy, better hurry!” The video cuts out and Jughead sees red.

He runs out of the apartment building, his phone slipping out of his sweaty hand as he rushes down the stairs, but he doesn’t stop for it. He runs right out the doors and down the street. He curses himself for not grabbing a key to one of the bikes, but it’s too late to turn around now. He’s not exactly athletic but he can hold his own in the physical fitness test at school. He strips off Sweet Pea’s sweatshirt somewhere along the way, letting it fall to the ground as he keeps running. Sweat drips down his temples and his heart is hammering in his chest. His injuries protest his every move, but he keeps going, knowing if he doesn’t, his friends will die because of him. The roar of an engine sounds from behind him, but Jughead pays it no mind until Sweet Pea is pulling up in front of him, skidding to a stop.

“Hop on!” Sweet Pea tells him, and Jughead scrambles on the back, clinging to Sweet Pea as he tries to calm his racing heart.

They make it to the woods where they parked the bikes the last time, Fangs pulling up beside Sweet Pea with Toni on the back of his bike, Jughead's phone in her hand. The four of them roll the bikes into the brush to hide them, and begin the trek through the woods.

“We saw the video on your phone,” Toni explains. “We’re helping you. Besides, I was beginning to like your Northside friends.” Jughead nods shakily, to terrified of his friends' fate to focus on the easy trust they show him by following him to a fight. Soon enough, they approach the edge of the parking lot and Jughead signals the others to stay back. There are Ghoulies standing out front with guns, patrolling the parking lot and waiting for him.

“I have to go in alone. If they see you, they’ll kill all of us,” Jughead reasons when Sweet Pea starts to argue. “Once I’m in, try to sneak around to the other side, there’s got to be a window you guys can get in through. We’ll be in the basement, I recognized it in the video.” He waits until the three Serpents nod before walking out into the day. Toni, Fangs, and Sweet Pea have stepped back and hidden behind the natural foliage.

The click of guns being cocked makes his head snap up and he raises his arms in surrender, forcing his feet to move him forwards. The Ghoulies have their guns trained on him and once he’s close enough, they force him to the ground, clocking him on the head with the butt of one of the guns, hard enough to make him dizzy but not unconscious, and he lets out a small shout in pain. The Ghoulies drag him into their hang out and down the steps. Surge is waiting for him with a too-wide grin, delighted to have Jughead back in his clutches. Naz is standing by cell in the corner, his gun pointed at Archie and Betty who have since woken up. Duct tape covers their mouths and wraps around their wrists. Jughead can make out some bruising on Betty’s face, and a black eye on Archie’s.

“Jonesy!” Surge sings. “I knew you’d come, what with your friends’ lives at stake,” he cackles.

The Ghoulies holding him force him down to his knees, one of them grabbing his wrist and pulling them roughly behind his back, making him grunt in pain. They wrap duct tape around his wrists, tightly, and Jughead can feel the circulation to his hands being cut off.

“Let them go,” Jughead demands, but Surge just looks amused and shakes his head.

“You’re in no position to make demands, Jones,” he tuts.

“Let’s make a deal, then. Let them go and I’ll tell the cops I staged the evidence for the drug bust,” Jughead says, sounding calm but frantically trying to form some kind of plan in his mind.

“How about I let them go, you get the Ghoulies out of jail, _and_ you become our slave,” Surge grins maliciously. “We’ll lock you up down here, do whatever we want to you. Maybe we’ll test some new drugs on you, hm? A junkie like you must be craving it.” Jughead wants to protest, to tell him he’d rather die first, but Betty and Archie need him to get them out of this.

Jughead bows his head in submission. “Fine,” he grits out, “I’ll do it. I’ll do it, just _please_ let them go.” Surge nods to a couple of Ghoulies who unlock the cage, grabbing them roughly and dragging them to the stairs. Jughead can hear Betty and Archie whine in pain at the treatment, sees tears in Betty’s eyes, and grits his teeth against his anger at the Ghoulies.

“My friends here, will take them outside,” Surge pauses, “From there, they get a ten second head start before they start shooting.” Jughead snaps his head up, eye widening in horror.

“No! No! You bastard!” Jughead yells and starts to struggle while Surge and Naz just laugh at him.

“Did you really think you could save them, Jonesy?” Surge asks him, condescendingly.

Jughead is about to make some kind of retort when a crash sounds from upstairs. Surge growls and nods at a couple of other Ghoulies to go check it out. They scramble up the stairs and gunshots start. Jughead feels tears gathering in the corners of his eyes knowing his friends could be injured or dead. A few minutes later, the sound of bullets stops, and footsteps trudge back down the stairs, dragging a body with them. Jughead gasps in horror at the sight of Sweet Pea’s slumped form. He waits to see Toni and Fangs be dragged down too, but they don’t come.

“What happened?” Surge demands. A smaller Ghoulie speaks up, voice squeaking in nervousness.

“These three Serpents,” he spits, “showed up. Took out some of our own and took the two hostages when they ran. We managed to grab this one.” Jughead lets out a quiet sigh of relief at the news, heart still hammering in his chest, but is still worried about Sweet Pea.

“You _idiots_! Can’t do anything on your own, can you?” Surge seethes. “Oh well, we got this one. Lock him up!”

The Ghoulies drag him to wall and get him locked into the shackles. Sweet Pea dangles by his wrists and Jughead winces at the sight. A red stain is quickly growing on Sweet Pea’s calf and Jughead thinks he may have been shot. How are they going to get out of this? How much blood can Sweet Pea lose before he dies? How long does Jughead have to get them both out of this? Surge slaps him across the face to get his attentions, snapping Jughead’s neck to the side, making his ears ring.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, Jones. We’re going to wake up your friend so he can enjoy the show. Naz will shoot him if you make one wrong move, so you better be a good boy for us. And of course, we’re going to record this so you don’t get any ideas about escaping again. Otherwise, the whole town will know what a whore you are,” Surge tells him. Jughead nods slowly, still trying to think.

Someone throws water in Sweet Pea’s face, making him splutter as he comes to. As promised Naz has his gun trained on him and Sweet Pea must notice because he keeps his mouth shut. For his part, Jughead waits for instruction as Surge starts the video camera, handing it to one of the younger Ghoulies to film them. Surge walks back over to Jughead and unbuttons his pants. Jughead flares his nostrils in hopeless anger. He wishes they’d beat him instead, wishes Sweet Pea wouldn’t see him like this.

“C’mon Jonesy, you know the drill! Open those pretty lips,” Surge coos with a smirk, stroking himself to full hardness.

“Wha- Jug?” Sweet Pea slurs, but Jughead ignores him, shuffles closer to Surge on his knees, nearly falling forward into Surge, and opens his mouth.

Surge tosses Jughead’s beanie somewhere and tangles his hands in Jughead’s hair, yanking on the strands and making tears comes to his eyes at the sting. Jughead barely gets in a deep breath before Surge is slamming his cock into Jughead’s mouth. He uses his grip on Jug’s hair to hold him down as he gags on the hard flesh in his throat. Bile rises and burns in the back of his nose, and Jughead can’t breathe, the tears flowing freely now. Surge finally pulls out, laughing at the spit and vomit that crawls down Jughead’s chin as he gasps for air. Then he plunges back in, this time thrusting hard and fast, only letting Jughead breathe when his lungs constrict painfully.

Jughead tries to think, to concentrate on getting out of here with Sweet Pea, but he’s struggling to even stay upright from the force of Surge’s thrusts and the lack of air. He thinks he can hear Sweet Pea cursing and shouting in the background, but mostly there’s just the dull roar of blood rushing in his ears and the wet, slapping sound, of skin on skin every time Surge thrusts, his balls slapping against Jughead’s chin. And then there are hands on him, stroking his legs, grabbing his ass. Someone cuts the button off his pants, rips the zipper open, and Jughead starts struggling again, but the click of the safety on Naz’s gun is enough warning for him to stay still. The air is cold against his bare skin as his tight pants are shoved down around his thighs, his naked ass on display as Surge pulls him forward in a half bent position.

A hard slap against his right cheek has him jerking forward and choking on the throbbing length in his mouth, only barely stopping himself from biting down in surprise. Another slap on the opposite side makes him jerk again and Surge shushes him as he yelps around the heavy cock on his tongue. Surge gently wipes the tears on his face as he whispers how _pretty_ Jughead is with his lips wrapped around his dick, how _beautiful_ Jughead looks with his ass now cherry red and the tears glistening in his eyes. Jughead wants to break free, to cringe and shrink back, but he can’t.

A new sensation distracts him. Cool metal traces down his spine, the chill felt even through his T-shirt. It continues until it’s traces down his crack and Jughead realizes it’s the barrel of Naz’s gun. He tenses in fear. It’s not just the fear of being shot that has his muscles tightening, it’s the realization that the Ghoulies aren’t planning to stop with just Jughead’s mouth.

Hands spread his ass and Jughead feels exposed. The tip of the gun barrel drags against his hole and Jughead squirms to get away, prompting the Ghoulies to laugh. To Jughead’s horror, someone spits on his crack for lube. The cold metal presses against his opening, and Jughead can hear the rattling of Sweet Pea’s chains, the curses and protests he’s spitting out at the Ghoulies that surround Jughead, intent on taking what doesn’t belong to them, intent on ruining him.

Strangely, it’s the knowledge of what comes next that has Jughead’s brain kicking into gear, forming a plan that’s half thought-out, half desperate instinct. Jughead pulls his shoulders back, readies his muscles and puts as much tension on the duct tape around his wrists as possible. Then he slams his arms down against his back in an effort to break the tape and free himself. The tape holds, but Jughead feels some wiggle room now, some feeling returning to his fingers. He wiggles his wrists, which wiggles his ass, distracting the Ghoulies who slap him some more, darkening the red hue on his bottom. The wiggling pays off and he slips his wrists from their bondage, immediately he digs the gifted switchblade out of his jeans’ pocket, slides the safety off, and flips out the blade in a matter of milliseconds.

The switchblade feels natural in his hand, like an extension of himself as he swings backwards. He knows he met his intended target when he hears the gun clang against the floor. In Surge’s shock at the scene before him, he releases Jughead’s hair, who pulls his mouth quickly off his flagging erection. Jughead swipes the knife forward, cutting into Surge’s sensitive manhood, gets to his feet and shoves into the teen with his shoulder. The pain and the impact send Surge crashing to the ground, knocking his head harshly against the concrete wall, and Jughead immediately gets back up to face off the other Ghoulies. The pants trapped around his thighs restrict his movement slightly, but Jughead ignores it in favor of running at the other Ghoulies, knife held in front of him. His hand slips a couple times on the knife and he ends up nicking himself, but the pain only fuels his adrenaline. At some point he wrestles the gun from Naz who grabbed for it while Jughead was busy with the others. Naz is still on the ground, holding his bleeding arms when Jughead kicks him in the head, effectively knocking him out.

The younger Ghoulies don’t put their hands up, even with the gun trained on them. They rush at him, fists flying and Jughead grunts at a particularly well aimed punch to his healing burn. Jughead fires a warning shot at the wall, making them scramble away again. Jughead takes the opportunity to quickly release Sweet Pea’s wrists from their shackles before one of the Ghoulies tackles him into the ground. The gun skitters across the floor and Jughead’s own switchblade has sliced his thigh, the warm blood seeping onto his trapped hand beneath the heavy Ghoulie. He feels a small prick to the side of his neck, and tries to get enough leverage to throw the Ghoulie off him. Then, Sweet Pea is there pulling the Ghoulie off Jughead and wailing on him with his fists. Jughead struggles to his feet again, pulling his jeans up, which slide down a bit without the button to keep them securely at his waist. He squares off with the remaining Ghoulie, holding the knife in front of him defensively.

The Ghoulie strikes out with his right arm hitting Jughead’s injured ribs. Jughead grunts in pain and swishes his knife through the air and across the flesh of the offending arm. He doesn’t give the Ghoulie even a moment before he’s stabbing him in the side of the leg and hitting him with an uppercut that sends him to the ground. Sweet Pea has moved on to bashing in the face of the teen leader when Jughead places a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Pea, stop, you’ll kill him,” Jughead says, but Sweet Pea’s whole body is shaking in rage.

“Good, he deserves to die!” Sweet Pea yells. Jughead hears police sirens in the distance.

“Pea! Pea, c’mon, we gotta go!” Jughead pleads urgently, pulling hard on his arm, and finally Sweet Pea acquiesces, following Jughead up the stairs.

They make it outside, the sirens almost deafening now, and sprint to the woods. Jughead pauses to see the sheriff’s department arrive at the scene before turning to keep going. Sweet Pea is limping and Jughead is reminded of his injured calf. He pulls Sweet Pea’s arm over his shoulder and bears some of his weight for him as they hobble over tree roots and dead leaves through the woods. When they emerge, the bikes are gone and Jughead feels the panic creeping in. Of course, Toni and Fangs needed both bikes to get Betty and Archie out of here, but that was a while ago, wasn’t it?

Jughead and Sweet Pea start slowly making their way down the street, but Sweet Pea is getting heavier with each step and Jughead knows he’s on the verge of passing out. Jughead grunts under the weight, his muscles straining as he continues on. The adrenaline is wearing off and the pain of his injuries, old and new, are starting to make themselves known. Jughead stumbles a little before managing to catch them both and forces his legs to keep going, to stay strong. There’s a rumbling of motorcycles that’s getting louder and Jughead could cry when he sees Toni and Fangs racing towards them. They both skid to stop, jumping off their bikes to help Jughead with Sweet Pea. They get him situated on the bike behind Fangs, telling him to hold on tight as Fangs speeds off. Toni kisses Jughead on the cheek before pulling him to her bike and speeding away behind their friends. Jughead feels woozy and sick with worry, but tightens his arms around Toni as they speed through the streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you enjoyed-suggestions and criticism welcome! Leave a kudos too!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's the next chapter, everyone! I know it's a little early, but I finished it and couldn't wait to post it. I'm not super confident about this chapter, but if I re-read it anymore I was worried I'd delete it. There's a lot of comfort in this chapter, and I hope I did it justice! This chapter feels a bit slower than the others, but the pace will pick up again in coming chapters, I promise. Thanks again for all the lovely comments, suggestions, and kudos!

They end up at the Whyte Wyrm. Jughead thought they were going to the hospital and doesn’t know what possessed Toni and Fangs to bring their injured friends to a bar. Sweet Pea stumbles off the bike, and Jughead and Fangs both rush to support him between them. They hold him up and practically carry him inside. Jughead didn’t expect to see the place transformed into a mini hospital. Thick sheets have been laid over a couple of the pool tables and Fangs and Jughead lay Sweet Pea across one. A middle aged blonde comes over, dressed in scrubs, and wearing gloves. She has a Serpent tattoo peeking out from under her short sleeves, and another Serpent follows behind her with a cart of medical supplies. She starts checking out Sweet Pea while Fangs guides Jughead over to Toni, who hands him a cup of water. Jughead takes it with shaky hands and gulps it down, not realizing how thirsty he was.

“That’s Claire, the nurse, she works at the hospital, but helps patch up the Serpents too. We called her as soon as we got Betty and Archie here,” Toni explains and Jughead nods absentmindedly before suddenly backtracking.

“Wait. Betty and Archie are here? Can I see them?” Jughead asks, hopeful. Toni smiles and guides him over to a booth against the far wall, near the bar. Betty and Archie both stand up as he approaches, wrapping him in a hug.

“Oh my god, Juggie,” Betty cries against his shoulder and Jughead rubs her back.

“Jug,” Archie says, brokenly, glassy-eyed, and Jughead gives him a reassuring smile. He knows Archie is thinking about when his dad was shot, how close both his family members came to dying this year, and Jughead feels awful about it.

“Hey, Jug, you okay?” Archie asks, concerned. Jughead is about to nod when he feels as if the rug was pulled from beneath his feet. The last thing he feels before passing out completely is Archie’s arms catching him while he yells for someone to come help.

Jughead wakes up in an unfamiliar bedroom. It’s dark save for a small lamp glowing in the corner, and the clock tells him it’s already evening. The dimly lit room is small with only a bed, a dresser, and a chair for furniture. Jughead recognizes the clothes neatly folded on the dresser as his own. Someone must have stopped by the trailer for them. He was only in his underwear when he woke up, and Jughead feels exposed and vulnerable like this. He kicks off the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed, noticing the fresh bandage on his thigh from the knife wound. Every move seems to aggravate his bruised ribs, and the burn is starting to itch under its bandage. His throat is sore and raw, and his muscles ache from the recent physical exertion. He carefully pulls on his black jeans and purple t-shirt with a large “S” on the front, followed by a fresh pair of socks and shoes. He's stumbling and unsteady, but the need to cover up overshadows his worrying lack of balance and energy. There’s a pullover sweatshirt on the dresser as well. Jughead recognizes the black material as one of Sweet Pea’s and pulls it on over his head, allowing the wood and cinnamon scent to fill his nose and wrap around him comfortingly.

Jughead feels better covered up, but his skin still prickles with the need to be scrubbed of the unwanted touches and wandering hands. He feels nauseous, thinking of earlier that day, of what almost happened. A shiver of disgust worms up his spine knowing that Sweet Pea saw him, saw what he’s become. He’s used and broken and _dirty._ The permanent reminder of the Ghoulies’ ownership of him twinges on his ribs with every breath in. He wishes he could strip off his skin like a snake, and burn it, leaving only a memory of its suffering.

Jughead curls back up on the bed, wishing he could dream of a better life instead of the continuous nightmares he’s been prone to lately. He desperately tries not to think about how Sweet Pea must see him now. Tears slip down his cheeks, hidden in the privacy of this small, unfamiliar bedroom. His breaths come in ragged and aching gasps and he’s being noisy, but he can’t stop. His body shakes with the ghost of fingers touching and taking what doesn’t belong to them. Echoes of Surge’s voice telling him how good he is, how pretty he looks on his knees, ring in his ears. Jughead might let out a scream, he’s not sure, but his throat is on fire and his tongue tastes like acid and semen, and he just wants it all to _stop_.

“ _Please_ ,” he rasps out to no one, curled in on himself in the bed, fists clenching to keep from tearing at his flesh. “ _Please.”_

Arms come around him, pulling him up into a seated position, and Jughead pushes, and kicks, and yells, but the arms stay strong. The arms pull him to sit sideways between two long legs, and hold him against a warm body. Jughead cries harder, lungs heaving as they fight for air, and a large hand pulls his own to a hard chest. A strong heartbeat pulses beneath his hand and a low voice speaks gently in his ear.

“Shhh. It’s okay, Jug, I got you. I got you,” Sweet Pea assures him, rocking them back and forth. “God, Jughead, I-I’ve got you. Just breathe with me, breathe.” Jughead thinks he may have imagined the way Sweet Pea’s voice choked up for just a moment, but can’t be sure.

"S' Pea?" Jughead mumbles out quietly, feeling delirious in his panic.

A soft shushing answers him and Jughead, incredibly, finds himself relaxing inside Sweet Pea’s warm embrace. Tears still stubbornly pour from his eyes, but his fists unclench, his shoulders fall back, and his head leans against a strong shoulder. Sweet Pea arranges Jughead into a more comfortable position, allowing his back to lean against his chest. How pitiful he must look, Jughead thinks, crying and hyperventilating like the weak kid he is.

Sweet Pea continues to rock them even when Jughead’s breathing returns to normal and his tears stop. He rubs his hands down Jughead’s arms in a soothing rhythm and hums quietly in the back of his throat. Jughead feels the tension drain from his body on every exhale, every pass of those warm hands on his arms, every forward motion of their bodies. He should tell Sweet Pea he’s fine, that he can let go now, but Jughead, selfishly, does not want to disrupt the gentle and peaceful atmosphere.

As if Sweet Pea could sense Jughead’s thoughts, he stops rocking, instead relaxing back against the headboard. Jughead closes his eyes in anticipation of the moment ending, of being shoved away now that he can breathe again. They snap open again when Sweet Pea simply wraps his arms around Jughead’s chest in a one-sided hug, and Jughead sighs softly, content.

“Jughead,” Sweet Pea speaks quietly, but doesn’t say anything more.

“I’m sorry,” Jughead rasps out to the protest of his dry and sore throat. He clears his throat a little. “I messed up, I got you involved, and I-I’m a fucking mess and-.”

“Stop,” Sweet Pea whispers harshly, hands rubbing Jughead’s arms again. “You saved my life, Jones. I don’t take that shit lightly. And I know… What they did was-was fucking awful and- _fuck_ \- I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Sweet Pea tells him and when Jughead turns to look at him, Sweet Pea is almost crying. “I could kill them for what they did to you,” he whispers, a haunted look in his eyes.

“Why?” Jughead asks and Sweet Pea screws his eyebrows together in confusion.

“What do you mean, why? They, they –”

“Why do you care about a useless nobody like me?” Jughead whispers self-deprecatingly. Sweet Pea closes his eyes and carefully hugs Jughead again, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“ _You’re not useless_ ,” he breathes out. “You’ve _never_ been useless and I fucking regret telling you that you were.” Jughead looks away at that, not meaning to make Sweet Pea feel guilty. His head is still swimming and Jughead just wants answers, needs to know what it is he's missing here. Sweet Pea gently pulls his attention back to himself with a gently hand on Jughead’s cheek. “You, Jughead Jones, are the _bravest_ person I know, one of the strongest, too. And I know you don’t believe me, but I’m telling the truth,” Sweet Pea tells him with so much confidence that Jughead _wants_ to believe him.

“What I did... I’m disgusting,” Jughead whispers and the force with which Sweet Pea shakes his head in denial, shakes the bed too.

“ _The Ghoulies_ are disgusting, _worthless_ assholes that belong in a worse place than prison. Don’t ever let what _they_ did to you make you feel like you’re _less_ , okay? Because you’re so much more.” Jughead doesn’t know what he’s more _of_ , but he thinks if he asks, Sweet Pea will say _‘everything’_ because Sweet Pea seems to recognize something in him that Jughead just doesn’t.

“Thanks, Sweets,” Jughead finally responds, too tired and unused to the comfort Sweet Pea is offering him to respond any other way. For just this moment, he lets himself believe that he is all those things Sweet Pea said, that he is brave, and strong. He lets himself believe that the Ghoulies didn’t taint him, didn’t make him worth any less for using him.

They sit in silence for a while longer. Jughead revels in the comfort so freely given by Sweet Pea, and basks in his company. He likes Sweet Pea more than he thought he would, and has become attached to him in just a few days. The stress and the traumatic experiences are probably to blame. Jughead isn’t rushing into anything, but he feels the possibility of something greater is there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“Betty and Archie are downstairs, they were really worried about you,” Sweet Pea eventually says. Jughead nods and slides himself off the bed, leaving the warm embrace in which Sweet Pea had enveloped him. Sweet Pea scoots himself carefully to the edge of the bed. Jughead notices the stiff movement and remembers the bleeding wound on his leg.

“Sweets, your leg…?”

“Eh, it’s fine. It’ll take more than a stab wound to take me down,” he smiles reassuringly. “I’ll live. And this’ll heal in a week or two- nurse said so.”

“I thought you got shot,” Jughead laughs softly in relief. “I’m glad you’ll be okay.”

“You will too, you know?” Sweet Pea reminds Jughead. Jughead nods even though he feels further from okay than he ever remembers being. He’ll just have to trust Sweet Pea on that one. “Oh, hey! Before I forget, here.” Sweet Pea pulls Jughead’s beanie out of his pocket and hands it over. The material is damp and Sweet Pea looks a little sheepish as he says, “I washed it in the sink.”

Jughead is shocked, eyebrows raising and eyes widening. Sweet Pea avoids looking at him, so when Jughead suddenly wraps his arms around his middle tightly in a hug, Sweet Pea is thrown off balance and they both stumble in the wall with a quiet “oof!”

“Thank you,” Jughead tries to say, but his voice cracks and causes him to cough harshly.

“No problem. We should probably get you some water,” Sweet Pea changes the subject, a little embarrassed, or maybe overwhelmed. Jughead pulls the beanie over his ears, feeling more like himself in the familiar accessory.

Together, they walk down the stairs into the bar area of the Whyte Wyrm. Sweet Pea keeps close to Jughead, looming like a protective bodyguard and Jughead surprisingly doesn’t mind. He had asked Sweet Pea if there was an extra toothbrush somewhere, and had been able to brush his teeth and gargle some mouthwash before they came downstairs. He felt a lot better with the putrid taste washed off his tongue. After getting some water from the back kitchen, Jughead and Sweet Pea make their way to where they can hear Toni talking to someone. Sweet Pea limps slightly from the stab wound to his leg, but somehow maintains his confident and intimidating aura as they enter a small backroom where Toni is conversing with Sheriff Keller. They both turn at the creaking of the wooden floorboards and Toni instantly walks over to pull Jughead into a hug.

“Jug, Sheriff Keller here wants to talk with you,” she states, but Jughead can hear that she’s really asking if he’s up for it. Jughead nods and she squeezes his arm in support. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she whispers and Jughead nods again and steps toward Sheriff Keller. Toni takes Sweet Pea’s arm and pulls him away to a room in the back.

“Jughead,” Sheriff Keller greets him, and leads Jughead to a booth in the corner that offers some privacy. “The Ghoulie kids all survived, thought you’d like to know,” he tells Jug.

“That’s good,” Jughead responds, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. He was running on instinct and fear back there, but he didn’t want to be a murderer.

“The reason I’m here is because we found some evidence that places you at the scene,” Sheriff Keller explains, apparently waiting for Jughead to say something, but continuing when he remains silent. “We found the video, Jughead.” Jughead feels his shoulders rise in a defensive position and his face go stony.

“Oh,” he quietly says, his throat closing up on him in horror.

“It’s okay, Jughead. You’re not in trouble, and as awful as that video is, it did result in some of your attackers confessing to their crimes. They’re going to be put away on drug charges, aggravated assault, kidnapping, and sexual assault charges. They'll be facing at least twenty-five to thirty years behind bars, some longer.” Jughead doesn’t know what to say, wishes they’d be locked up for life for what they did, what they _almost did,_ but holds his tongue. “You won’t have to testify or see any of them again for a long time,” Sheriff Keller sighs. “I’m sorry we weren’t there sooner. If it were up to me, those boys would rot in prison after what they did.” Sheriff Keller stands, squeezes Jughead’s shoulder with a small, reassuring smile, and walks away.

He finds his friends in a backroom with a couple couches and some poufy armchairs set up in a square formation around a rectangular, beat-up coffee table. Betty is sitting between Toni and Archie, while Sweet Pea and Fangs sit on the opposite couch. Jughead’s heart gives a little jump in his chest at the sight of Betty and Archie still here. As soon as they become aware of his presence, the two of them are off their seat and hugging him again. He leans into the embrace, taking solace in his friends, before pulling back slightly.

“I’m sorry you guys got caught up in all this,” Jughead says, hanging his head. Archie ruffles his hair affectionately.

“Promise us you’ll never keep something like that from us again,” Betty insists of him.

“I’ll… _try_ ,” Jughead tells her because he doesn’t want to lie and she nods in understanding, offering a small smile. Archie and Betty pull away and Jughead asks, “So, what’s been happening on the Northside all this time?” Betty face drops a little and Archie rests a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I have so much to fill you in on with the Black Hood,” Betty says grimly. Just like that the six of them sit on those couches and learn all about Betty’s connection with the Black Hood, the phone calls, the tasks.

Jughead and Betty are determined to solve another case together, the detective duo- Nancy Drew and her Hardy Boy, and Jughead feels so _normal_ for the first time since coming to the Southside. He watches the way the teen Serpents are caught up in the thrill of the mystery, as well, throwing in their own theories and suggestions. He smiles, feeling happy, and whole, and surrounded by so much _family_ it makes his heart sing. And then Betty and Toni break some surprising news to him.

“Your dad’s getting out of jail,” Betty says, glancing at Toni who nods. “Toni and I have been working on getting him out, and we may have threatened Cheryl to speak in his favor at the hearing…”

“In exchange, I’m taking Cheryl on a date to the Bijou next Friday, you’re welcome,” Toni says, but Jughead notes the excited gleam in her eyes, the affectionate way she says the redhead’s name.

Sweet Pea snorts at her comment, “Please, you can’t wait to sink your teeth into that bombshell!” Toni laughs in agreement.

“So when’s he coming home? Why did you guys…? _Thank you_ ,” Jughead rushes out all at once.

“He gets out next week. We were gonna surprise you, but after what you’ve been through, I figured you could use the good news,” Toni tells him gently.

“We knew something was wrong, Juggie, but you wouldn’t talk to us, so I thought maybe if your dad came home… I don’t know, you’d talk to him? Or that you’d at least have someone to take care of you- or at least watch over you?” Betty spoke softly and Archie nodded his head in agreement. “I was so scared, Jug, that it was the Black Hood doing this to you… He threatened to..., if I didn’t follow his commands,” Betty told him, unable to get out all the words. A small sob escapes her and Fangs rubs her back in comfort.

It makes Jughead wonder how he missed the union of these two groups and their progression from hating each other, to comforting and supporting each other. He makes a mental note to stop separating them in his head- clearly, they’ve all become close, even Sweet Pea is sitting next to Archie, a _Northsider_ , with no complaints. He thinks of that old saying “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Maybe having a common goal was enough to merge these two groups from different sides of town together. It was nice to see something good after these rough few weeks, almost as nice as knowing the Ghoulies confessed and will be in jail for a long time. Although, Jughead didn't miss the way Sheriff Keller said _some_ and not all. He decides to worry about that later, still too exhausted to deal with it right now.

“Jughead, we wanted to present you with this,” Toni hands him a familiar black leather jacket. It’s the Serpent jacket presented to him after his dad was arrested. He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Officially, I mean. If you want, that is,” she explains.

“Are you asking me to join the Serpents?” Jughead asks teasingly.

“Well, we _did_ ask you weeks ago,” Fangs huffs, and the room laughs. Jughead stares at the jacket and runs his fingers over a tiny crown someone stitched onto the snake emblem. That wasn’t there before.

“What do I need to do?” Jughead asks, “Isn’t there some kind of initiation?”

“There is,” Toni says, “But you’ve already passed the biggest part. All you would have to do is memorize the Serpent Code.”

“What was the biggest part?” Jughead asks, confused. He doesn’t remember doing any kind of initiation, unless the initiation calls for fighting the Ghoulies.

“Demonstrating that you have our backs- that you can be trusted to fight with and for us,” Sweet Pea answers with a small smile.

“But I didn’t…” Jughead trails off, lost.

“You protected us from like day _two_ of knowing us- and we didn’t even know we were in danger! And today, you fought like hell against those Ghoulies- heard it from Keller they were in pretty bad shape-, practically carried Sweet Pea through the woods, and _survived_! Not to mention, you got the Ghoulies put away for at least twenty years,” Fangs announces, then lowers his voice. “You should have come to us in the beginning, but you kept silent for weeks to try to protect us, and that means a lot to us. And when it was finally all out in the open, you trusted us to have your back. That’s the biggest part of being a Serpent- that’s family, Jones.” Jughead is shocked into silence. To hear that the Serpents respect him for keeping quiet, for enduring abuse from the Ghoulies, made him feel a little less used.

“So, Jones, you joining us?” Sweet Pea asks, the corner of his lips quirked up to one side in a smirk. Jughead looks at Betty and Archie, who both wear carefully blank expressions. They don’t want to influence his decision, he realizes, they want him to choose for himself.

“Yeah,” Jughead tells them, a slow smile forming on his face as Fangs whoops and Toni laughs. “ I am.” Sweet Pea’s smile matches Jughead and he looks so _fond_ that Jughead is tempted to kiss him. The thought catches him off guard and he feels himself blush as he quickly looks away.

Eventually, Betty and Archie leave to meet with Veronica and Kevin. Fangs and Toni check on Jughead before taking their leave too. It was decided, with little to no protest from Jughead, that one of the Serpents would stay with him at the trailer, at least until his dad comes home. Somehow, that job was taken exclusively by Sweet Pea, who already put together a bag of clothes and toiletries.

Jughead is more than ready to go home. His head is pounding from the loud music in the room over, and the minor concussion from the fight. The older Serpents are drinking and celebrating the defeat of the rival gang, many of them drunkenly patting Jughead and Sweet Pea on the back as heroes as they make their way to the front doors. Sweet Pea has to catch Jughead more than once when a drunk Serpent claps him on the back too hard and makes him stumble, keeping a protective arm around Jughead’s shoulders as they exit the Whyte Wyrm. The ride home is calming. The steady rumble of the bike and the warmth radiating from the strong body in front of him soothes away some of the stress from the day.

When they arrive at the trailer, Jughead excuses himself to take a well-deserved shower. He carefully folds the borrowed Sweatshirt and places it gently on the vanity, tossing the rest of his clothes in the hamper. He takes a moment to stare at his reflection. The dark circles haunting his visage have finally disappeared after the rest he’s gotten this weekend. His lips are a little puffy, swollen and bruised at the corners from the abuse they took. He has a few scrapes and a couple new bruises, but his old ones are starting to yellow and fade. Overall, he looks awful, but even that is better than he's been looking, and feeling, for weeks, so Jughead can’t bring himself to care about the rest.

Jughead knows today was a good day, despite all that happened. He knows that the Ghoulies can’t hurt him anymore, knows that his friends are all safe. However, his skin still crawls as he steps into the water stream, imagining the sensation of hands on his body, echoes of “Good boy” in his mind. He feels used and gross and _dirty_. He rubs his skin raw and red with soap and hot water until he feels marginally better. He knows it’s all in his head, that his body is clean and it’s not like the Ghoulies actually _did_ anything, but he can’t seem to convince his mind of that. It’ll take time, Jughead knows, to get over the psychological damage the Ghoulies did, and it angers him that even locked away, Jughead still hurts because of them.

Sweet Pea knocking on the door startles him out of his thoughts and he scrambles to pull on clean boxers and a t-shirt. At the last minute, he pulls Sweet Pea’s sweatshirt on again, feeling safer with it on. It hangs down to mid-thigh and almost completely covers his boxers, as if he’s wearing nothing but the hoodie. It’s a look that Jughead could get used to, even as it makes him blush. He leaves the bathroom with such haste that he runs right into Sweet Pea’s chest, his arms catching Jughead before he can fall backwards, his ribs throbbing slightly. Sweet Pea lets go of him and sucks in a small, sharp breath.

“You look good, Jones” Sweet Pea says quietly, voice deep and gravelly. Jughead blushes deeper, feels his face turn bright red at the compliment. Warmth spreads out from his chest and Jughead decides he likes Sweet Pea’s attention, desires it even. Sweet Pea doesn’t make him feel dirty or used, but warm and safe instead.

“Th-thanks,” he stammers. “I hope you don’t mind?” Jughead asks, pulling lightly at the sweatshirt and he thinks he hears Sweet Pea groan a little.

“I don’t,” he says roughly. “You look great in my clothes,” Sweet Pea smirks and wiggles his eyebrows, making Jughead laugh and slap him arm as he steps past him. Sweet Pea grabs his arm, gently.

“Wha-?” Jughead cuts himself off as Sweet Pea puts his hands on his cheeks, his thumbs rubbing small circles against his flushed skin, and leans in. He keeps eye contact the whole time, watching Jughead carefully.

“Is this okay?” Sweet Pea breathes against Jughead’s lips, his mouth only centimeters away, and Jughead nods jerkily, leaning in closer to Sweet Pea, but not closing the distance.

Sweet Pea takes the lead, pressing his slightly chapped lips against Jughead’s own gently, barely moving. Jughead makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, reaching up to run his hands through Sweet Pea’s soft hair, pulling him closer at the same time. It must signal something to Sweet Pea, because suddenly his lips are moving, a delicious pressure against Jughead’s mouth and he moans slightly at the warmth that spreads through him in response. Sweet Pea nips at his lip softly, before soothing it with his tongue. Jughead parts his lips in a gasp and lets Sweet Pea sweep in to fill the space with his tongue, to massage the two muscles against each other in an intimate display of passion. Sweet Pea pulls back slowly and kisses him softly several times before separating their lips completely. They’re still in each other’s space, breath mingling, and Sweet Pea is staring at Jughead in awe, as if he’s something ethereal and precious.

“I’ve wanted to do that since you refused to sit with us at lunch,” Sweet Pea admits quietly and Jughead laughs slightly in disbelief.

“Well I’m sorry for the wait. Was it worth it?” Jughead asks coyly, feeling a thrill at being wanted so candidly. He feels bold and confident, _empowered_ under Sweet Pea's attention.

“Jug, I’d wait a thousand years if it meant I could kiss you again,” he replies breathily. Jughead likes the way he says his name, like a soft caress, likes the dreamy expression on Sweet Pea’s face.

“No more waiting,” Jughead says and stands on his toes to reach Sweet Pea’s lips. “But maybe we take it slow?” Sweet Pea nods as he presses their lips together again. This kiss is less passion, more care, but Jughead doesn’t mind as he sinks into it.

“Enough of this mushy shit, I need to shower,” Sweet Pea reminds him in a whisper against his lips, effectively ruining the moment and making Jughead laugh loudly. Sweet Pea smiles smugly, proud of himself, then saunters into the bathroom while Jughead scavenges for food in the kitchen.

When Sweet Pea re-emerges, they sit on the couch together, comfortable in each other’s presence. It strikes Jughead as odd that he’s become so attached to the other boy in a such a small amount of time. Then again, it stands to reason he’d feel close to the one person who knows his trauma as intimately as Sweet Pea does. He saw what the Ghoulies have made of him, and they saved each other’s lives today. It wouldn’t be unusual to feel a close bond after something like that. Still, Jughead doesn’t want to trust so easily, doesn’t want to let his guard down and be hurt again. He won’t keep pushing people away, but maybe he needs to maintain some distance?

“Jughead,” Sweet Pea says, and Jughead startles at the sound of his name, still so new coming from Sweet Pea’s voice. “Earlier… I know the day has been a lot- for everyone, and emotions were well... I just… I don’t think kissing you was a mistake, okay? But I _am_ sorry rushing into it like that…” Sweet Pea sighs in frustration and Jughead is holding his breath, unsure about what he’s saying. “Look, your face is squinting up the way it does when you’re thinking too hard, and I just want to tell you that it doesn’t have to mean anything- the kiss- if you don’t want it to. Nothing has to change, hell we barely spoke before today.”

Jughead feels something inside him twist then settle at the idea. Jughead's body clearly likes Sweet Pea's affections and bristles at the idea of rejections, but his mind? His mind needs some distance and healing. The offer of time and space to learn what he wants, to figure this out, is extremely welcome. Jughead is surprised Sweet Pea had that level of insight in him, not many would. “That… actually would be good, I think. I don’t know what- what I want,” Jughead admits and Sweet Pea nods like he totally gets it and maybe he does.

“Ok, cool. We’re sticking around, though- the Serpents- and I’m still staying with you until your old man gets home,” Sweet Pea tells him resolutely. Jughead thinks about the Serpents for a moment. He’s happy to be accepted- a small part of him always craving the feeling of being wanted, but he wants to be accepted like any other member, no special passes just because he’s the Serpent King’s son, or because of what happened with the Ghoulies. It feels too much like pity that way.

“I want to join the Serpents,” Jughead says slowly, raising his head to look Sweet Pea in the eye. “I want to join the same way everyone else does. I want to complete all of the trials, no exceptions. And I want to do it before my dad comes home.” Sweet Pea’s eyes widen in bewilderment.

“What? Jones, you’re already in. You only need to focus on learning the Serpent Laws,” Sweet Pea tries to argue, but Jughead continue to give him that hard stare that means he’s deadly serious and not going to budge on this. Finally, Sweet Pea sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. I can respect that. The others won’t be happy about it, though. We gotta start getting you ready now if you want to get this done in just a week. We’ll start with the Serpent Laws. Now, repeat after me.”

Sweet Pea goes on to recite all the laws, teaching them to Jughead and making him repeat them back until they’re memorized. The determination to help Jughead is clear in the strict way he teaches, the hard look of concentration on his face as he prepares Jughead for the trials. He tells Jughead about the gauntlet, that no matter how much Jughead complains, they need to modify it so that Jughead’s ribs are protected. The last thing they need is Jughead’s ribs to break and puncture a lung, or worse. Jughead finally agrees when Sweet Pea reminds him that his dad would be beyond upset if Jughead lands in the hospital for this. Sweet Pea and Jughead go back and forth talking and suggesting ideas, and even getting off topic a few times, for hours.

The whole time, Jughead savors the feeling of normalcy that comes with focusing on a goal and talking through strategies. It almost feels like studying for an exam with Betty and Archie, or memorizing the film schedule at the drive-in, or even finding the words to type out a story that exists only in his head. It's relaxing and normal, and for a little while it helps him forget the foreign hands and sadistic whispers that haunt him. His mind and emotions feel quiet and steady, like the beating of a resting heart. They both fall asleep around three in the morning, in Jughead’s bed, after Jughead refuses to let Sweet Pea take the lumpy old couch. They both lay as close to their respective sides as possible. Jughead likes Sweet Pea, takes comfort in him, but is grateful for the space, even as his body craves the physical comfort that the other warm body could provide. Exhaustion pulls his consciousness away as the darkness embraces him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed Sweet Pea and Jughead being all cute and cuddly. Or let me know if you hated it. More to come next week!


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! It's been a while, huh? Sorry for the long absence. First, I just want to say thank you to everyone who reached out to me to make sure I was okay! It really means a lot and makes me feel appreciated. Secondly, you guys deserve an explanation for the why the chapter was so late. Truth is, I rewrote this chapter five or six times and just wasn't happy with it. I didn't want to post anything unless the quality lived up to what I've already posted of this story, and lived up to my own expectations. I was so frustrated with myself that I didn't respond to any comments. I do appreciate the comments though, they helped keep me encouraged even as I fought with myself on writing this chapter. Long story short, it was a bit of writer's block that kept me away for so long.  
> That being said, I like this final version on the chapter and hope you guys will too! It's a bit of calm before the storm, so I apologize if it seems boring. And yes, Jughead is out of character for this chapter, but it's part of the plot, not a mistake. Let me know what you guys think! If this chapter is confusing or scatterbrained, leave a comment and I'll try to fix it!
> 
> Also, side note, I know I was posting a new chapter every week before this chapter ruined me, but a couple weeks ago I picked up an extra shift at work, which leaves me less time for writing. Therefore, my upload schedule may change to every other week instead. I'll do my best to post chapters weekly when I can, but don't be too angry if there's a bit of a wait in between uploads.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, everyone, and enjoy!

Exhausted as he was, Jughead doesn’t dream that night. When he wakes up the sun is already shining through the small trailer windows and Sweet Pea is mumbling quietly in his sleep. The dark tousled hair is strewn messily across Jughead’s spare pillow and Jughead smiles a little at the sleep-warm body next to him. Sweet Pea has one arm stretched above his head, arching over toward him, hand open and fingers outstretched. He is briefly tempted to reach out and lightly tickle the center of his palm, just to see what would happen. Would Sweet Pea swat at him, or would he close his hand and pull Jughead closer in his sleep? Neither thought is unpleasant, but Jughead can’t help but to shy away from those thoughts. He feels too vulnerable still, his emotions too raw and exposed.

Jughead contemplates getting up, but finds his eyes returning to Sweet Pea’s prone figure on the bed. His mind draws parallels between the rough, broad shouldered Serpent and the soft, blonde headed Betty. Jughead remembers waking up next to her, just enjoying being in her presence. She was always gentle with him, kind and loving in ways he hadn’t known since his family fell apart and the bus to Ohio stole away his little sister. Jellybean would have loved having Betty around, caring and smiling, and quick-witted. What would Jellybean think of Sweet Pea? Or Fangs? Or Toni? Would she like the Serpents, or want nothing to do with them?

Jughead looks away from Sweet Pea to stare at the ceiling. They aren’t dating, and are they close enough to even be friends? Or are they just a couple of teenagers forced together by chance and circumstance? He _wants_ to be friends, _wants_ to be more, but Jughead shakes his head to scatter those thoughts. It’s far too soon after waking up to be thinking this much. A shower is in order, he thinks, to get his mind to calm down. Jughead rolls out of bed, as gently as possible on the springy mattress, cringing when it shakes enough to rouse Sweet Pea into rolling over. After gathering some fresh clothes, he heads to the bathroom on shaky legs.

He must still be tired, his steps uneven as he grasps the edge of the sink to steady himself. Looking in the mirror, his bruises have darkened to near black with a hint of yellowing around the edges. He hopes they go away completely before his dad gets home, or he’ll have to hide them. He gets into the shower and sighs at the rush of hot water against his skin. The temperature is near scalding and leaves his body a reddish pink color that clashes with the dark blacks and purples of his bruises. The burn mark on his side stings under the soapy water, but Jughead just grits his teeth and keeps scrubbing.

He’s just rinsing off when a wave of nausea bubbles in his stomach, unbidden and without reason. Leaning forward, hands on his knees, Jughead heaves violently for several minutes, muscles contracting painfully against his ribs and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Nothing comes up though, and Jughead wills his gasping breaths to even out and deepen, forces himself to stand up straight. He swallows some warm water from the showerhead to fight against the nausea, counting slowly in his head until it passes. Once it does, he shuts the tap and stumbles out of the shower and into fresh clothes, deciding at the last minute to throw on Sweet Pea’s hoodie like a safety blanket, warm and secure. He brushes his teeth and winces at the sharp smell of mint, stomach roiling before settling again.

When he leaves the bathroom, barefoot because he forgot to grab socks, he heads to the kitchen for some food. Maybe the nausea is from hunger? His bare feet stick to the cold floor as he makes his way to the fresh coffee steaming on the counter. He startles slightly when he notices Sweet Pea sitting at the table, a bowl of cereal and milk in front of him, and a spoon stuck half way in his mouth as he acknowledges Jughead with a nod. Jughead makes a beeline for the fresh made coffee on the counter.

“Mornin’” Sweet Pea greets him. Jughead shrugs in response, more interested in the strong taste of coffee coating his tastebuds than talking. “Come eat, I already poured you some cereal.”

Jughead bristles. Sweet Pea made him coffee, fine. But he made breakfast too? Jughead can pour his own fucking cereal. His anger rises and he swallows another mouthful of hot coffee, suddenly bitter on his tongue, before dumping the rest down the sink and clenching his fists.

“What is it, Jones?” Sweet Pea asks, annoyed. His eyebrows draw down into a scowl and Jughead grits his teeth.

“I’m not a fucking invalid!” Jughead explodes, “I don’t need you making me coffee or pouring my damn cereal!” Sweet Pea’s chair scrapes across the floor as he stands to his full height, arms crossed over his chest, glare firmly in place.

“Fuck you, Jones! You can’t just say ‘thank you’ like a normal person, can you? Did you hit your fucking head in the middle of the night, or are you always this bitchy in the morning?” Sweet Pea shoots back at him.

Jughead makes a sound close to a battle cry, and finds himself right in front of Sweet Pea’s tall frame. He shoves the larger boy hard, his bony fingers digging into the muscled flesh of Sweet Pea’s shoulders. Sweet Pea stumbles, but not as much as Jughead wanted him to, before gripping Jughead’s arms in tight fists and shoving him back until Jughead stumbles and catches himself against the kitchen counter. The impact jars his injuries, but Jughead is too busy being angry to focus on the prickles of pain spreading through his back and chest. Sweet Pea angrily marches to the bathroom and slams the door loudly, with a frustrated grunt.

Jughead huffs, looks around, and begrudgingly makes himself a new cup of coffee. He eyes the cereal on the table for a moment before procuring a clean bowl from the cabinet over the sink to pour more cereal into. He’s pretty sure the cereal is something Sweet Pea brought over, but decides to ignore that fact as he digs in. The full bowl on the table remains untouched. Halfway through his breakfast, Jughead hears a thump and a swear from the bathroom and he hides his mirth behind his hand, shoulders shaking at the thought of Sweet Pea tripping in the shower.

His laughter fades quickly and the half-eaten cereal sinks heavy in his stomach, a mass of guilt and shame. He didn’t mean to get so pissed off about breakfast, isn’t completely sure why he did. Jughead takes a few shaky breaths, in through his nose, out through his mouth, wincing when he breathes too deeply and disturbs his ribs. He finishes his coffee and pretends it will chase away the lingering wisps of anger swirling inside him, though he’s certain this isn’t the usual morning crankiness. As he puts his dishes in the sink, a headache emerges sharp and strong, and his eyes ache from sensitivity in the soft, natural light. Jughead winces as the bathroom door squeaks open and puts his fists to the sides of his skull, gently pressing until the headache begins to fade. When he opens his eyes again, Jughead watches Sweet Pea emerge from the steam in a thick flannel with the sleeves rolled up, and worn jeans. Sweet Pea flops down on the hole-ridden couch and leans his head back with a sigh. The guilt that started in his stomach is clawing its way up Jughead’s throat, choking and cloying.

A deep breath later and Jughead cautiously approaches Sweet Pea. The teen has every right to be angry or annoyed with him, and Jughead knows he needs to apologize. Sweet Pea has been nothing but kind and caring to him the last few days, and Jughead just doesn’t know how to handle that. Betty was always nice and of course she always cared, but in a motherly way that caused her to bring Jughead extra food at lunch, or cuddle with him and watch old movies when he’s feeling sad. Sweet Pea on the other hand is aggressive and headstrong. He takes care of Jughead like it’s his right instead of his job. As if taking care of Jughead sates an inert need to protect and provide for his fellow injured almost-Serpent.

“Sweet Pea, I’m-,” Jughead starts, then pauses until Sweet Pea focuses his attention on him. “I don’t know what that was. I just- I was _so_ angry and it doesn’t make a lot of sense because you’ve been really great, but-” Sweet Pea cuts him off with a loud sigh.

“It’s fine, Jones. You’ve been through a lot of shit the last few days. You’re entitled to some tantrums,” Sweet Pea smirks at the end of his sentence, the glint in his eye daring Jughead to snap back with something witty.

Jughead glares at him for a moment before letting out a snort. He shrugs with a small smile and sits on the couch next to Sweet Pea. While Sweet Pea is sprawled out over half the couch, Jughead is practically curled in on himself with his cold toes tucked beneath the cushion separating the two boys.

They spend the day watching Star Wars because it’s the only color movie Jughead owns, and Sweet Pea refused to watch anything black and white. Jughead hopes Toni and Fangs will grab their schoolwork for them, but then again the teachers are probably used to students skipping classes. He doubts anyone really bothers to make up the missed work at Southside High. Any tension in the room fades as the two get lost in the epic adventures of Luke Skywalker and his quest to save the galaxy. By the second film, they are sitting closer together, shoulders inches away from touching. When they start the third film, they are fully leaning against one another. Sweet Pea has his arm on the back of the couch, and Jughead soaks up the heat where the appendage weighs down on his shoulders.

Jughead has moments where he feels his mind wandering, when his headache is enough to distract him from the movie, times when he feels lost in his own body. Sweet Pea seems to notice and throughout their movie marathon, tries to annoy him with witty barbs and opinions on the characters. Sometimes, he startles a laugh out of Jughead, other times he causes an argument. Jughead knows what he’s doing and he feels a flutter of nerves in his stomach at what it might mean.

They don’t talk about the kiss, not since last night, and Jughead doesn’t know if he’s grateful or irritated by that. Sure, he agrees with Sweet Pea about taking it slow, but does Sweet Pea _regret_ the kiss? Does Jughead? Can Jughead even trust himself after what he’s been through? Anything short of being forced to his knees or beaten would make him think he’s in love, wouldn’t it? Jughead cringes at the thought and tries not to think about it, which is made easier when Fangs and Toni knock loudly on the door, startling the boys into jumping apart. Jughead is pleased when Sweet Pea stays seated and lets him open his own damn door, but doesn’t miss the way his body tenses, ready to jump up and fight if need be. Maybe Jughead isn’t the only one shaken from the past few days.

It turns out that the two Serpents did grab their schoolwork, and had told everyone they both came down with a bad cold. When Jughead mentions going to school the next day, Toni concernedly asked if he wanted everyone to see the bruises. It made him pause to deliberate. People seeing them meant they might ask questions. Then again, it’s not the first time he’s been bruised up from a fight, and he’s certainly not the first one to show up to Southside High with mysterious injuries. Fangs claps him gently on the back when Jughead tells them he doesn’t care if anyone sees, and it makes Jughead smile. Then, Fangs tells them he’s arranged for the first step of the initiation into the Serpents to happen tonight, and his smile is replaced by a worried frown and nervous hands pushing through his hair.

When evening comes, the four make their way to the Whyte Wyrm to start the trials. Jughead wasn’t really prepared for the shouting, the crowd, the actual, real-life, fucking snake that bites him, but he tries not to let the fear show. On the inside he still feels fragile, like he could shatter into a million pieces, but getting through this makes him feel just a little stronger, more resilient than he knew. He recites the Serpent Laws loudly and confidently, not even blinking. He gets bit by a snake and only grunts in pain instead of crying out.

The gathered Serpents, young and old, cheer for him, root for him through all of it. And when he succeeds, they punch him on the arm, clap him on the back, and surround him with hugs and hoots to show how proud they are, how excited they are to see him get one step closer to joining their family. His heart swells with happiness and _want_ , and suddenly it’s not just the feeling of loyalty or protection he’s after. He wants this family, this easy camaraderie. All the evidence he’s seen of the Serpents suggest they’re a tight-knit group that protect their own and welcome him with open arms. Even so, Jughead doubts himself and his ability to make the right decisions. _Is joining the Serpents really that smart? What if they just want to use me too? What if I’m too fucking broken?_ He hides his fears and insecurities behind a wide smile and forced laughs until they head back home.

He falls asleep late that night with those thoughts in his head, and Sweet Pea snoring softly next to him. He knows he’s being ridiculous and overly analytical. After all, the people who join the Serpents usually join because they’ve been through some bad times. If the Serpents were full of perfect people from perfect families, they wouldn’t have the reputation they do, and they wouldn’t be half as close and supportive of each other as they are. Jughead thinks he can learn to trust them, to rely on them, even when he can’t rely on himself, it’ll just take time. The thought is enough to help him fall asleep, but doesn’t keep the nightmares away.

Sweet Pea wakes him up at what feels like every hour, but is more likely only three times the whole night. Each time, Jughead bolts straight up, his heart pumping ninety miles per hour, and sweat drenching his battered frame. His cheeks are wet from tears and wet spots on the pillow tell him he was drooling too. Sweet Pea is soft in the darkness, whispering kind words and patting him on the back when he feels nauseous enough from the nightmares to hunch over the toilet. When they finally wake up the next day and mutually agree to skip school again, Sweet Pea returns to his normal sarcastic, rough self.

Jughead gets into more arguments with Sweet Pea over stupid shit, like passing the saltshaker _please asshole_ , than he can keep count of. And sometimes the arguments are fun, they push each other’s buttons until one of them snaps and makes a deadly and quick-witted reply that sends the other reeling for their own verbal ammunition. Other times, the arguments are full of anger and hatred and violence, usually from Jughead himself. He never thought of himself as a violent person, would sooner stage a peaceful, and well thought-out protest, than a riot. However, he’s been off balance the past couple days, feeling irrational and confused for no particular reason. He shoves and pushes at Sweet Pea when he gets frustrated instead of using his voice, and tries to start fights that Sweet Pea refuses to finish. Jughead’s anger is like a buzzing energy that demands to be released, unprovoked, yet ever building.

And after the fights, Jughead’s energy is gone, depleted. And he ends up curled up on the couch and apologizing and fighting the urge to cry or hide away in his room. And Sweet Pea is so overbearingly nice about it all, as if Jughead hasn’t given him a few bruises throughout the day, or verbally lashed out for no reason. Sweet Pea just watches him with barely concealed concern and endures his mood swings, tells him today’s just a bad day, but tomorrow he’ll be fine. Jughead tries to believe it, and by the time the afternoon rolls around, he manages to contain his emotional upset to the point where he and Sweet Pea can sit side by side on the couch while Jughead types away on his laptop, and Sweet Pea watches whatever shitty television catches his interest. Toni comes over that evening and hugs Jughead before telling him to grab his Serpent jacket and tugging him out the door.

“You need to go meet someone at the Whyte Wyrm,” she explains and Jughead looks at her questioningly. “Penny Peabody. She’s this lawyer who’s also a Serpent. She’s been helping Betty and I on your dad’s case. She’s the one who suggested that Cheryl’s public forgiveness of F.P. would go a long way in reducing his sentence. Anyways, Betty and I met with her after school to go over a few more details for your dad’s release and probation, and she asked to meet with you. I think she just wants to give you a rundown of what F.P. needs to do to stay in compliance?”

Jughead nods, “Okay, I’ll talk to her. I mean, she’s helping my dad, so I guess I should at least thank her in person.”

Jughead follows Toni on his bike. They carefully park to the left of the entrance and head inside. Jughead spots Tallboy sitting at the bar with a large beer in his hand, and Claire sitting in a booth munching on a basket of fries. A few other faces from his initiation are around, but mostly the bar is empty on this Wednesday night. Toni pulls Jughead along a back hallway and down a half flight of stairs to a sectioned off room at the end of a dimly lit hall. A blonde woman in a black leather Serpent jacket sits at a chunky metal desk with a small lamp sitting on top, washing the room in warm tones. She looks up as Toni and he approach, a big smile stretching across her face.

“You must be Jughead. I’ve heard a lot about you these last few days. I’m Penny,” she reaches out a cold hand, which Jughead grasps lightly in a hand shake. She pulls him into her office space, shooing Toni away with excuses about client confidentiality. Toni tells Jughead she’ll be waiting upstairs, but Jughead hears the question in those words. _Are you okay on your own?_ He nods jerkily, feeling irritated at her concern, but not enough to cause a scene. Penny closes the door and gestures for Jughead to take a seat, so he does. The chair creaks whenever he shifts his weight, and he tries his best to sit still.

“Would you like some tea?” Penny offers, steaming mug already in hand.

“Uh, sure, I guess?” Jughead agrees questioningly. He’s not a fan of tea, always preferring coffee, but thinks it might be rude to decline.

“You look tired- like you haven’t been sleeping well. The tea will help- it’s a special blend for ailments,” She smiles, white teeth shining in the low lighting.

“Thanks,” Jughead says and blows on the hot liquid before taking a few tentative sips. The tea is warm and earthy and surprisingly doesn’t taste like grass. He drinks some more before looking back at Penny. “Toni said you wanted to meet with me?”

“Yes, I thought now would be a good time to fill you in on what happened during your dad’s trial, and the conditions he had to agree to in order to be let out on probation.” Jughead nods, so she continues, “He will need to get a job- full-time employment, nothing part time or illegitimate. He’ll also need to attend bi-weekly AA meetings to keep himself sober. And no more gang business. He can wear the leather and ride the bike, but is not allowed to step into this bar or participate in any Serpent events or dealings, or they’ll be able to take him back in. All this is only for six months, which is extremely lucky.”

Jughead nods along as Penny goes into detail about his father’s parole and mandatory breathalyzer tests, and how they argued his sentence down in the first place. His sips his tea until the still warm cup clutched in his fingers is empty. Penny was right, Jughead feels so much better. He thinks he may be able to sleep straight through the night. All the aches and pains his body has been experiencing seem dull and muted. He didn’t even realize he still had a headache until the tea got rid of that, too! And the slight nausea that’s been plaguing him has yet to make an appearance since ingesting the soothing breverage. Jughead marvels at the light feeling in his bones, and the clarity in his mind. He may tune Penny out for a little bit while he contemplates the easy relaxation provided to him by some crushed herbs and tea leaves.

Penny gives him a knowing look and calls it a night. “You look about ready to fall asleep there, Jones, and you still need to drive home, so let’s call it quits. If you have any questions in the meantime you can always stop by. I’m more likely to be here at night, though.” Jughead nods, eager to get home and fall into bed. A yawn wrenches itself out of his throat and Jughead stretches his tired muscles. As he’s walking out the door, Penny calls out. “Hey, Jones, don’t be a stranger! I’m here to help, you believe that right?”

“Thanks Penny, seriously, for everything,” Jughead tells her with a nod and makes his way back to Toni, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. Penny smiles sweetly at him until the door clicks shut behind him.

Toni and Jughead head back to his trailer together. The constant exhaustion he felt the past few days is entirely gone and he feels like he could stay up all night, just speeding down winding roads with the rumbling of his bike beneath him. He knows he wants to go to school tomorrow though, so he reluctantly follows Toni until they’re parking their bikes in Sunnyside. Fangs and Sweet Pea are sitting on the couch playing poker while waiting for them. Jughead smiles and waves when they look up at them. When was the last time Jughead felt this happy and carefree? Obviously riding in the fresh air really did wonders for him.

Sweet Pea grumbles something under his breath and Fangs elbows him in the side before jumping up to give Jughead and Toni a simultaneous one-armed hug. “Dudes, you’re back! You just missed me wiping the floor with Pea here!”

“Shut up, Fogarty! You did _not_!” Sweet Pea huffs and Jughead laughs. The ensuing scuffle that breaks out between the two as they each try to pin the other down has Jughead shaking with amusement, giddy and relaxed.

While the two friends fight with one another, Toni helps Jughead make some boxed macaroni and cheese he doesn’t remember buying. Jughead notes that Sweet Pea or Fangs must have washed the dishes from earlier as he pulls out four clean bowls and mismatched utensils. Toni plates everything before grabbing two bowls and waiting for Jughead to do the same. They bring them out to the couch. Toni hands one of hers to Fangs, and Jughead offers one of his to Sweet Pea who accepts it with a nod and quirk of his lips.

They wind up doing homework together for a few hours, music playing from Toni’s phone for background noise, until Toni and Fangs leave for their own beds with a promise to see them in school tomorrow. The silence that follows their departure puts Jughead on edge, and he clenches his fists in the sleeves of Sweet Pea’s hoodie.

“C’mon, Jones. Let’s play some poker,” Sweet Pea offers.

“What are the stakes?” Jughead inquires warily.

“Hmm… How about if I win, you make us dinner for the rest of the week? And if you win…?”

In a moment of confidence, Jughead blurts out, “If I win, I get another kiss.” The cards Sweet Pea had been shuffling, explode in a flurry of cards fluttering to the ground. Sweet Pea is frozen for a moment, eyes wide, and Jughead scratches the back of his head as self-consciousness sets in. His ears roar as his mind supplies an endless list of reasons Sweet Pea would never want to kiss Jughead. He’s tainted, and sarcastic, and he picks fights, and-

“Okay,” Sweet Pea breathes out. “Yeah, that works.” He sounds breathless and the tiniest smile is replacing his look of confusion. Sweet Pea busies himself with picking up the fallen cards while Jughead lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The rushing in his ears quiets and the pounding of his heart slows down to a dull thump-thump. He lets himself smile again, excited, nervous, and properly motivated to win. Sweet Pea deals the cards.

Three rounds later, Jughead has yet to win a single hand, when Sweet Pea finally calls it.

“Time for bed, Jones.” Jughead groans, unwilling to admit defeat, but having no other option as Sweet Pea cleans up the cards and tucks them back into the worn box. “You really want to kiss me that badly, I _guess_ we can play again tomorrow, same stakes. Oh! And I want tacos tomorrow!” Sweet Pea taunts as he stands to stretch, revealing inches of skin where his shirt rides up, and laughs when Jughead chucks a throw pillow at his head with a glower.

They share the bed again and Jughead avoids nightmares enough that when he wakes up, he feels well rested and ready for the day. Jughead and Sweet Pea bicker and fight over who gets to use the bathroom first before reluctantly sharing the sink to brush their teeth and make it out the door in time for the ride to school. They each take their own bike today and Jughead revels in the feeling of freedom and the cool breeze on his face as they speed to school. Toni and Fangs are waiting at Jugheads locker when they make their way through the metal detectors.

“Well you two are certainly in a good mood. Have a good night?” Toni asks innocently with a wink. Fangs bursts out in raucous laughter as Jughead blushes and Sweet Pea stammers out an indignant reply.

“N-nothing happened! Get a grip you guys,” Sweet Pea gathers himself and then smirks, “But Jughead did try to beat me at poker for the chance to kiss me.”

“What? Dude!” Fangs claps Jughead on the back in some weird sort of congratulations.

“Yeah and the bastard didn’t let me win,” Jughead grumbles and Toni laughs at his misfortune before tugging on Sweet Pea’s arm to lead him to class. Fangs lingers with Jughead and must notice the teen’s good mood start to fade.

“You okay joking about this stuff? We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it’s just so funny to watch Sweet Pea get all flustered and excited over you,” Fangs seeks his reassurance and Jughead just waves him off. “You sure? You seem a little down now.”

“Yeah, it’s fine- nice, even. I don’t need you guys treating me like I’m delicate or about to break or some shit.” Fangs scoffs, completely serious in a way Jughead has only seen when they were in danger.

“Of course not, Jughead. You saved Sweet Pea’s life the other day. You literally dragged him through the forest when you could barely stand from your own injuries. Hell you saved _all of our lives_. Fuck the whole victim thing! You, Jughead Jones, are the toughest guy I know, and my best friend is over six feet of hard muscle!”

Jughead smiles in gratitude and explains, “Sorry, just a lot to deal with lately. I just want everything to be normal. And the jokes don’t bother me, I’m just on edge being back here. It feels like the first day of school again and I keep anticipating the Ghoulies are going to jump up behind me or something.”

“Most of them got locked up for a bit, and the rest haven’t been in school. With any luck, they’ll all drop out and never return. We’ve got your back now, bro, so nothings gonna happen, I swear,” Fangs says before saying goodbye to head to his own class.

From there, the day goes smoothly. Jughead goes to class and is actually able to pay attention without the constant fear of the Ghoulies to distract him. He sits with the Serpents at lunch and talks with them between classes. The following day goes much the same and Jughead feels himself relaxing as he gets used to the lack of Ghoulies. He comes to accept that the Serpents are really his friends now, and he smiles more because with friends like them, it’s easy for him to pretend he’s okay, that his transfer to Southside High wasn’t the worst thing to happen to him since his mom left with his little sister. 

However, by the end of the second day back, he’s in a crappy mood, with a massive headache and distinct lack of focus to make it all worse. He decides he needs some time away from everything, feels a need to do something normal. So, he tells Sweet Pea he’s going to Pop’s after school instead of home. He wants to work on his novel and fill his senses with the greasy atmosphere that has always been his little haven. Sweet Pea asks Jughead to wait for him and he’d go too, so Jughead taps his foot impatiently, waiting on the school steps after the final bell rings, for the tall Serpent to make his way outside.

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes when Jughead huffs irritably about him taking so long, but keeps his mouth shut to avoid poking the bear. Jughead told him that it’s going to be boring. He’ll just be sitting in a booth ignoring Sweet Pea and getting lost in his own words as his sips coffee. Sweet Pea claims he doesn’t mind, even says he’ll buy Jughead a burger and some fries, peaking his interest. Jughead hopes this is just what he needs, a normal night in Pop’s diner with coffee and his laptop, and a good friend. Jughead is so tired of feeling like shit all the time. He just wants to feel better already.

The diner is warm and inviting when they arrive. Riverdale High students and other Northsiders fill the tables and booths, but Jughead’s usual table in the back is still open and he makes his way to it. Pop gives him a smile as he passes.

“We’ve missed you around here, Nighthawk,” Pop says and gives Sweet Pea a nod in welcome as well. He then places two large burgers and an overflowing basket of fries on the table in front of the boys with a wink.

“Thanks, Pop,” Jughead says with a genuiene, soft smile and digs in, with Sweet Pea following suit.

It’s a Friday night, meaning most people have better things to do than hang out at a diner all night. By the time the dinner rush is over, the diner has mostly cleared out except for some teens sharing milkshakes, or groups huddling in over booths to trade secrets and gossip. Jughead takes it all in with a sense of nostalgia and familiarity. He pulls out his laptop and starts typing, the words flowing from his mind to the keys. Sweet Pea pulls out his homework, getting a head start before the weekend.

Jughead is impressed with Sweet Pea’s work ethic, then immediately feels bad for stereotyping him as a slacker just because he’s a leather-wearing Southsider. As far as Jughead can tell, Sweet Pea hasn’t missed a single homework assignment and even does pretty well on exams in his classes. He suspects Sweet Pea wants to get out of Riverdale just as much as everyone else. He wonders what Sweet Pea and the other Serpents would be like if they’d been able to attend Riverdale High instead of its rundown counterpart. Jughead decides to take a break from writing and interrupts Sweet Pea halfway through his math homework.

“So when are we doing the next step in my initiation?” Sweet Pea tenses up and ignores him. “Sweet Pea, you said-“

“I know! Okay? Sheesh, don’t get your panties in a twist, Jones,” he responds rudely before running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know you want to do it before your dad gets back, but you still wince every time you sit down or stand up. You’re already in, Jones, just take it for what it is.” The way Sweet Pea says it, it sounds like a brush-off. Jughead feels the irritation and bad mood from earlier build in him and clenches his fist before slamming them on the table.

“Damn it, Sweet Pea! You said I could do it. Stop treating me like a fucking victim already. I saved your ass, didn’t I? Or are you worried I’m stronger than you?” Jughead yells scathingly.

When the words register in his head, it’s too late to take them back, and he deflates a little. Sweet Pea’s shocked face morphs into a cold, stony expression. He says nothing and goes back to his math problems. If he’s gripping the pencil hard enough to snap it, Jughead doesn’t point it out, just watches silently as Sweet Pea angrily scribbles down the solution to his assignment. A tap on his shoulder startles Jughead from his one-sided stare down. He looks up in surprise to see Tallboy standing there, a permanent sneer on his face.

“Jones, Peabody needs to talk with you,” Tallboy announces, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Penny sitting in a booth at the other end of the diner. Sweet Pea glares at the older man and moves to stand up, only to be shoved back down by Tallboy’s rough hand on his shoulder. Jughead follows the older man down the aisle, ignoring the stench of alcohol and cigarettes that stick to Tallboy’s clothes like he’s bathed in it. The leftover Northsiders turn their noses up at them as they pass, although Jughead expects its more Tallboy’s appearance than his own that causes the reaction. The older Serpent is covered in dirt and grease and his long hair looks dirty and unwashed. He looks every bit the stereotypical biker gangbanger and out of place in a diner like Pop’s with its old-timey music, soft lighting, and fifties uniforms.

Penny looks like she was working all night on something, and maybe she was. She looks tired and frustrated, but Jughead watches her face smooth out in a calm façade as they approach. Two cups of steaming coffee sit on the table. Tallboy nods his head at the seat opposite Penny, waiting for Jughead to sit. Penny smiles at him when she looks up from where she’s gathering documents on the table, and motions for him to take a seat. Tallboy shoves past him to walk outside and Jughead has a moment to feel a little unsure, like maybe he’s missing something here.

“Sit down already, Jughead,” Penny calls to him. As soon as he’s settled, Penny pushes the steaming mug closer to him. “Drink up, you look like you could use it,” she commands with a wink. Jughead nods gratefully before down a third of the hot liquid, mildly burning his tongue in the process.

“What’s all this?” Jughead breaks the silence, motioning at the stack of papers.

“This is your father’s case,” Penny says. Unease rises again in Jughead’s throat as Penny sits there watching him.

“So, uhh, is everything alright?” Jughead asks nervously.

“Well, it’s just that as much as I want to help your dad, this kind of work is expensive, and a new witness just stepped forward and threatened to unravel the whole thing. If that happens, your dad won’t be walking free,” Penny tells him. “I can take care of it, of course, but like I said- it’s expensive.”

“How much will it cost?” Jughead asks in a panicked rush, “To make sure my dad gets out?”

“I’ll give you a discount since you’re almost a Serpent." Jughead doesn’t miss the scornful inflection when she says that, and bitterly feels his face heat up. "Twenty thousand dollars,” Penny tells him with a small, sad shake of her head.

“Twenty thou-! I don’t have twenty grand! Shit,” Jughead pulls at his hair in frustration. He’s sure the desperation is rolling off him in waves. Penny pushes the coffee toward him again.

“Drink some more coffee and calm down,” Penny tells him. “We can negotiate.” Jughead drinks some more coffee, using the time to think this through.

He could ask Betty and Archie for help. Hell, maybe he could convince Veronica to lend him the money. _It’d only take him twenty years to pay it back_ , he thinks in despair. He continues to sip at the hot coffee, Penny doing the same while watching him. She reminds him of a cat watching the birds as they flutter and peck at the grass, waiting to attack. Jughead shoves that thought away. She’s the only one able to help his dad right now, he needs to stay focused on that. The warm coffee settles nicely in his stomach and the panicked feeling has lessened. Jughead tries to rein in his emotions so he can figure this whole mess out.

“Okay,” he says as he sets down his almost empty mug, “Let’s negotiate. I don’t have twenty grand.”

“Hmm,” Penny hums. “Well, how about we make a deal, then?” Penny pauses a moment, thinking. “I’ll make sure your dad gets out, if you do me a little favor.” Jughead freezes.

“What kind of favor?” he asks warily, heartrate increasing.

“Just a delivery. Nothing traumatizing, I swear kid,” she says evasively. “Drink some more coffee, you look a little pale.” For lack of anything better to do while he stalls his answer, Jughead does drink more. When the cup is empty, his headache is gone, and he feels much calmer. Of course, he also has no choice but to answer Penny now. He takes a deep breath, deliberating, then lets it out in a sigh.

“Fine,” Jughead says, “ Where am I going?” Penny smiles delightedly, as if this outcome was a forgone conclusion. He can’t help but feel like he’s been tricked, but ignores that thought to focus on the victory of getting his dad out of jail.

Penny tells Jughead she’ll call him tomorrow with the details and he just needs to show up, alone. Then she sends him back to the booth where Sweet Pea is waiting. Except Sweet Pea isn’t in the booth where Jughead left him and when he does find him, he’s arguing with Tallboy just outside, in a series of whispers and hisses, fingers aggressively poking into Tallboy’s chest. Tallboy smirks and whisper something to Sweet Pea that makes him whirl around and spot Jughead. He huffs, glares at Tallboy one more time, then grabs Jughead by the shoulder to lead him back inside the diner. They pass Penny at the entrance, and she winks at them before getting on her bike and riding away with Tallboy trailing after her.

“What was that about?” Jughead asks cautiously. Sweet Pea stiffens a little before visibly shaking it off.

“Nothing. Just, be careful around those two, okay?” Sweet Pea says calmly.

“Uh, sure. Why the need for a warning, though?” Jughead inquires, incapable of letting things go. Sweet Pea sighs.

“Tallboy and Peabody are snakes in every sense of the word. They’re tricky, Jones, and if you’re not careful, they’ll sink their fangs into you.” Jughead nods, taking the dramatic wording for what it is- a serious warning and an evasion of the question. He doesn’t ask again, knowing he’ll only get the same vague answer in an increasingly annoyed tone.

Sweet Pea seems to forget all about their earlier fight, and Jughead relaxes around the taller boy as they relax back into the booth. Eventually, they order a couple milkshakes and make conversation across the glossy tabletop. Sweet Pea smiles every time Jughead laughs at something said, or makes a sarcastic joke to him, but Jughead notices the pinched look Sweet Pea gives him when he think he isn’t watching. Sweet Pea watches him like he’s a puzzle he just can’t solve and Jughead bristles a little when he sees it. _Why can’t I just be happy without it being suspicious_ , he thinks, but ultimately lets the irritation slide off him, and enjoys the camaraderie between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment with your thoughts and criticism! If you enjoy the story, please leave kudos- they're better than cookies, honestly!


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